Bomb Pops, Explosions, and Pomegranate Salad
by Sylph Dancer
Summary: The one where two super-soldiers corner their favorite genius in a public bathroom, Tony sets someone else's lab on fire, the team finds sex tapes, a certain metal arm keeps mysteriously breaking, and everyone should have listened to Natasha the first time around.
1. 5 Surefire Ways To Torment Tony Stark

**5 Surefire Ways to Torment Tony Stark**

 **Five times Steve and Bucky get under Tony's skin, and one time he gets under theirs.**

* * *

 **one. body**

The first time it happens, Tony doesn't think much of it.

Well, in all honesty, he wasn't really thinking much of anything—an eyeful of sweaty super-soldier doesn't exactly help one's mental processes—but it's not uncommon for most of the Avengers to see each other shirtless (or in Clint and Scott's case, pantless) at some point. He's helped stitch Wanda up after a mission against a horde of particularly disgruntled hamsters, and sparred with Nat in the gym; he's even walked into the common area to see a sweaty Sam digging through the fridge, and, on one particularly memorable occasion, chased a naked Bruce through the tower brandishing a pair of shorts made of ultra-resilient fabric with high elasticity.

The two super-soldiers, however, are a different matter entirely.

It's not to say his fellow teammates aren't attractive—it's undeniable that Sam's quite the looker, and annoying as he is, Scott's not half bad. Sharon's beautiful, even if it is the scary kind of beautiful, and Nat is, of course, gorgeous, not that he'd ever tell her that unless he wanted a knife in his back. No, his issues with handling the lack of clothing on the pair of super-soldiers runs entirely on his rather unfortunate attraction to the two.

Which is why when he runs smack into one shirtless, dripping Bucky Barnes, his first thought is "fucking hell".

"Hey, Tin Can." Bucky smiles at him, brushing his dripping hair back from his forehead. "Ach, sorry. Don't worry, it's just sweat."

Tony would reply, except he can't help but be rather distracted by the display before him. Bucky's wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats on that— _Jesus_ —leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, hanging low on his hips. He's practically glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling heavily, and Tony forces himself to shut his mouth to prevent drool from leaking out of it.

"Tones?" Bucky's voice is concerned, and amused, for some reason. There's something odd glittering in Bucky's eyes, but it's gone before Tony can look closely, instead replaced with bright mischief, similar to the kind that Steve tells him was always present in the old Bucky.

Tony sees it more often these days, along with a sort of quiet happiness or serenity. The thought makes something in Tony ache, even if he's told it's not quite the same as it once was; the more he comes to know about this man, the more he wants this man to be happy.

Not that it matters, because Bucky's still looking at him with that strange look in his eye, and Tony realizes he's been staring at Bucky's sweaty chest for almost a full minute. "Robocop," he manages, forcing a casual smile. "I need your arm."

Bucky raises one eyebrow, crossing his arms. "My arm."

"Yes." Tony brandishes his schematics at him. "I've been thinking—you're always down in my lab for cleaning and repairs, right? Well, for aesthetic purposes, I've been drawing up some ideas for some synthetic material to both protect the surface of your arm and maintain its appearance."

"You want to make synthetic skin," Bucky says softly, lips curling, "for me?"

"Well—" Tony shifts nervously. "I mean—it's not just for you, of course, if it's successful, it'll be presented to the general public and put on the market, and if I can get Pepper's approval, we can distribute it to hospitals for free and—"

"But you're making it for _me_." Bucky's grinning now, and then he's swinging him up into a bear hug, knocking the air out of him. "You're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah, I got it, Robocop," Tony chokes out, trying to ignore the fact that _holy shit his chest is pressing up against me_ , because Tony Stark is a grown adult and not an inexperienced teenager who pops inappropriate boners at unfortunate times, thank you very much.

Bucky sets him down, pressing their foreheads together; Tony wills the bright red flush creeping up his neck to go away. "When do we start?"

"Now works, I guess," Tony mumbles, and Bucky releases him. "I've got the plans and a few preliminary tests."

"Then lead the way, Tin Can," Bucky says, brandishing his arm in a mockery of a bow. Tony shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the wall beside them and not Bucky's muscles.

"Uh—aren't you going to put a shirt on?"

"Why?" Bucky cocks his head. "Does my nakedness offend your delicate Stark sensibilities?"

Tony snorts, rolling his eyes. "In your dreams, Robocop. I've seen dirtier things in bad pornos."

With that, Tony finds himself jabbering away, unable to stop the technical jargon from flowing as he leads the way to his lab. He's so focused, he doesn't catch Bucky's calculating gaze, nor see the smirk that graces his features, brimming with _promise_.

* * *

By the twenty-second time, however, Tony is beginning to suspect that something's up.

It's _endless_. If Steve isn't wandering around for _hours_ after a shower wearing nothing but a towel, it's Bucky wandering around in nothing but one of Steve's shirts. There's no escape, either—even when Bucky comes down for arm maintenance with his shirt already off, Steve shows up with his own discarded in the name of 'solidarity'. Tony has started going in for post-mission checkups right away instead of disregarding them entirely, just to avoid having to see the two stripping right on the landing deck with impunity before heading to sessions of their own.

He's still debating between "neither super-soldier is willing to admit they're losing clothes" and "Loki is fucking with us again", but right now, the only for-sure truth Tony has is that he's devolved into constant screaming inside his head.

He's never believed in the existence of any higher deity, but for a moment, he curses them all, Thor included, for sentencing him to this horrific combination of paradise and torment, because this is the fifth time this week alone that he's caught at least one super-soldier wandering around with far too few clothes on, and it's far too early for this, goddammit!

"Mornin', fellas," Bucky yawns, stretching as he makes his way into the kitchen, and of _course_ he's clothed in nothing more than a pair of boxers. Bruce mumbles his greetings, nose buried in his newspaper, and Sharon gives him a half-hearted wave, mouth full of pancake. Nat and Scott, who are decidedly _not_ morning people, give no notice that they even know Bucky's present, while Thor claps him on the shoulder with a broad smile.

Tony, on the other hand, buries himself deeper into his pile of blankets. He's probably slept three hours in the past forty-eight, and is only here because he passed out in his lab and woke up in bed drowning in one of Steve's grandpa sweaters. To put it simply, he is in no way equipped to handle a practically naked Bucky Barnes at nine in the morning.

"Look who's finally up," Sam calls over his shoulder, flipping another pancake.

"And don't the birds sound real swell," Bucky shoots back. Tony winces as his abs come into view."S'cuse me, Tones. I like em' better when they shut the fuck up, though."

"May I have another?" Wanda asks, and Sam flips her one over his shoulder with practiced ease, which she promptly douses in maple syrup.

"Hey, who stole my orange juice?" Bucky demands, scanning the contents of the refrigerator and frowning, and he's _bending over of course he's bending over_ because Tony's head should be hurting from that ass, not just sleep deprivation.

"You mean _my_ orange juice." Sam wriggles the carton over his shoulder, then downs the rest of it. Bucky narrows his eyes.

"I guess I do. Since this—" He snatches Sam's leftover Thai, "—is _my_ curry, right?"

"You touch my leftovers, and I _will_ take you out," Sam tells him without even turning his head.

"Do it, Tweety Bird," Bucky challenges, seating himself so close to Tony that he can, quite literally, feel the muscles of his arm through his blankets, and this is getting ridiculous, especially since he _knows_ Bucky wears shirts to bed, okay, and it's not like he can't borrow one from Steve—

Before things can escalate (and before Tony explodes), Steve makes his way into the common area, back from his post-run shower, and thank god, at least Steve is clothed this time.

"Good mornin', everyone. Hi, Tony," Steve says cheerily, giving Bucky a quick peck before snatching a small stack of pancakes from Sam and seating himself firmly on Tony's other side. "Gosh, it's really hot in here," Steve comments, and—fucking _Christ_ —off comes the shirt. Steve sighs in relief, tucking into his pancakes. "That's better."

"You guys are really hot and that's great and everything, but I'm not secure enough in my masculinity to handle you two being naked all the time," Scott says through a mouth full of pancake. "Was that awkward of me to say? I can't be the only one who's noticed this."

"Scott, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Steve tells him, entirely straight-faced, and Bucky simply tilts his head, frowning in that adorably confused way of his.

"What about you, Stark? You've noticed, right?" Scott asks, turning his accusatory gaze towards Tony, who resists the urge to punch him in the face.

"No, can't say that I have," he says through gritted teeth, scooting off his chair. "If you'll excuse me, I've got things to do. I'll be in my lab."

"Oh, I'll go with you!" Bucky rises from his own chair, Steve hurriedly shoveling the rest of his pancakes into his mouth.

"No!" The words are out of Tony's mouth before he can stop them; he curses inwardly at the twin looks of surprise and hurt on both super-soldiers' faces. "I mean—" He flails about for a moment. "It's—uh—"

Nat sighs, rising to her feet and dumping her plate in the sink. "Steve, it's been a while since we had a sparring session." She glances at Tony, shooting him a 'you-owe-me-for-this' look before turning to Steve and crossing her arms. "Gotta make sure our captain isn't getting rusty. And you." she glares pointedly at Bucky, who gives her his most innocent smile, "Finish your breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky drawls, arm shooting into a mock salute, and Nat rolls her eyes, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him out of the kitchen.

* * *

"Before you try lying," Nat states, twisting her torso and flipping Steve onto his back on the mat with ease, "I'd like to remind you that I am a trained spy and you are a terrible liar."

"Come on, Nat," Steve pants, wincing with effort as he frees himself from her grip, "Me an' Buck know what we're doing."

Nat blocks three of his swings, stopping the fourth with her hand and shoving him backward; he rights himself and swings his leg around in a feint. "I wouldn't call three years of pining 'knowing what you're doing'."

Steve sighs, signaling a time-out. "I'll admit it's been a bit difficult, but Tony can be a bit oblivious, you know that."

"Steve." Nat crosses her arms, expression deadpan. "You two have literally taken the man out on three dates, brought him flowers on five separate occasions, served him two candlelight dinners, and kissed him. _Twice_."

Steve downs the rest of the water in his bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Technically, two of those dates and one of those dinners were bonding trips with the rest of the team, and three of those flowers were 'get well soon' flowers."

Nat rolls her eyes. "Yeah, 'get well soon' because he's a self-sacrificing idiot with painfully low self-esteem. I still don't understand why you two can't just talk to him already instead of dancing around each other like this."

"We wanted to court him first," Steve protests, and Nat snorts, shaking her head. "The good old-fashioned way. Give him time to think it over, figure out what he wants."

"Steve, you could drop a billion different hints, and Tony would just pick them back up, brush them off, and hand them back to you without ever realizing they were for him." Steve laughs. "I'm serious, Steve. These past few weeks alone, you have been prancing around him half-naked, and the most he does is hide in his lab. If he hasn't figured it out already, he's not going to. Ever. Just _talk_ to the man."

"Oh, we will," Steve promises. "Though I'm sure he'll notice before that, of course."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that." Nat takes a swig from her bottle. "Just—try to keep it down a notch, all right? The rest of us are already sick of seeing your abs."

* * *

Tony isn't sure of how much more of this he can take.

When he walks into the common area on his way to a meeting with T'Challa and sees a completely naked Bucky Barnes sprawled across the couch, an equally-naked Steve off to the side with a paintbrush in his hand and a half-finished painting on his easel, his brain shorts out, because they have literally started holding _random nude painting sessions in his living room._

"Hey, Tony," Steve says cheerfully. "I hope you don't mind—I wanted to work on drawing full figures, and Bucky volunteered, so …"

"Oh, come on!" Clint complains as he walks in with Sam, who immediately chokes on his beer. "That is the communal couch, you two literally share a room, just fucking use the sofa that I _know_ you have in there!"

"Don't flip your wig," Bucky yawns, stretching. "'Sides, Stevie needed this one 'cause the arms are better for sprawling." He shifts, glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye and grinning. "Did you still want to try drawing it with the erection? I bet I can keep it up for at least half an hour."

It's at that moment that the elevator chimes and T'Challa steps out with a serene smile on his face, only to stop in his tracks, blinking at the sight of a red-faced Tony, a fuming Clint, a harassed-looking Sam, and two very nude super-soldiers. " … I can return at a better time?"

If he says something, Tony isn't entirely sure, because the next thing he knows, he's fleeing with T'Challa on his heels, the sound of Clint's frustrated screaming reverberating through the halls. They pass by Bruce, who raises a concerned eyebrow, and Tony shakes his head, storming past him, T'Challa exchanging a brief nod.

T'Challa places a hand on his shoulder, eyes full of concern. "Are you all right?"

Tony sighs, shoulders slumping for only a moment before he straightens, smiling. "M'fine, Your Highness. I'll admit, your concern is touching."

"It does seem rather well-placed, considering the, ah, current state of your team," T'Challa says easily.

From overhead, he hears Nat's annoyed voice, and Thor bellowing something about Midgardian traditions and communal masturbation. Tony winces. "Ah, yeah, can't argue with you there, Your Highness. So, about your recent nationalization of foreign companies in Wakanda …"

* * *

 **two. savor**

It starts when Tony buys Bucky illegal fruit.

According to Steve, Bucky has always been a good cook, aiding Steve's mother in the kitchen during mealtimes, even helping out in the kitchen during big rush hours when he worked as a dishwasher before he was drafted. It wasn't until after they'd freed him from HYDRA that he began to cook as a hobby, baking as a way to relieve stress, though certainly not to ply the team with sweets (or so Bucky would tell you.)

On occasion, he'd grill up a few burgers for the team to enjoy while picnicking on the roof or fry a few hushpuppies, but his real interests lay in sweets. He'd make pumpkin cookies, or cranberry raisin oatmeal cookies with orange peel and walnuts, tart peach pies, flaky spiced apple tarts, muffins with fresh berries, achingly sweet blackberry jam, two-layered german chocolate cakes with cream cheese frosting, sundaes with homemade ice cream and chocolate shavings, spumoni cheesecake, cinnamon pound cakes with merengue and toasted nuts—and that was just to name a few.

All the while, he'd shoo Steve and Tony from the kitchen, threatening Scott and Clint with dismemberment if they so much as touched whatever desserts he had cooling on his racks, arguing with Nat in rapid-fire Russian each time he caught her trying to sneak a taste. Even balancing several trays in one hand and stirring with the other, he'd blatantly refuse Thor or Vision's eager offers of help, though he'd put Sharon straight to work if she put on an apron, and he'd spend hours with Sam, the two bickering over spices and measurements. As far as anyone knew, he'd only ever allowed anyone to sample his sweets early a handful of times, conceding to Wanda's hopeful puppy eyes with a sigh and a weary wave of his hand.

His favorite ingredient, however, was _plums_.

"I started trying to incorporate plums in my food for memory reasons," Bucky told Tony, tapping his temple as the Avengers crowded around the island in the kitchen, each grabbing at his plate of blancmange decorated with candied violets. "It turns out, they're real versatile. You can stick 'em in everything. But," he says, eyes growing wistful, "the best ones are the mirabelle ones, and those are best fresh. Or in tarts," he says as an afterthought.

"I've heard of those before," Sharon muses, sucking thoughtfully on her spoon. "Aren't those the ones that are illegal here in the states?"

Yes, they are, and as Tony discovers, they're incredibly difficult to smuggle out of Europe when you have a reputation for illicit activities and the owner of the plum farm recognizes you from that time with the feral cat, which, Tony swears, was completely an accident and can be blamed entirely off his dislike of being handed things.

Still, it's worth it to see the wide-eyed look on Bucky's face when he holds up the plastic bag, and the way his eyes grow wider when he actually looks inside it.

It's less worth it to see the thoughtful frown appear on his face. "Are they the wrong plums? Shit, are they rotten? I can't tell, I'm not good with food, or living things. You know what, let me just—"

"Tones," Bucky says quietly, grasping his arm, "You don't need to keep giving me things."

"Do you not want them?"

Bucky shakes his head. "It's not that. I just want to make sure you realize you're wasting your time." His smile is softer, sadder. "I'm not gonna leave you behind. Got it?"

Tony tries to tear his gaze away, and finds he can't. "Crystal."

"Swell." Bucky plucks a plum from the bag, admiring it for a moment before taking a bite, juice dribbling down his chin. "Fuck, these are good," Bucky moans, and Tony finds his gaze drawn to the way Bucky swallows, eyes tracking the slow bob of his throat. When he shakes himself and looks back up, Bucky's got that odd glitter in his eyes again before it's gone, replaced by sweet gratitude.

"Thank you, Tony," he says, all sincerity, and Tony can only bring himself to nod.

* * *

The team's just finished up a mission and has been milling about the tower for fifteen minutes when, out of nowhere, Steve suggests they go out for ice cream. Clint, of course, jumps on the idea.

"It's a beautiful day, we should celebrate another victory with popsicles and ice cream sandwiches," he declares, ignoring the way Nat rolls her eyes.

"That does sound nice," Sharon admits. "I do miss orange dreamsicles. But I get the feeling people would notice if the Avengers turned up at an ice cream parlor."

Natasha tilts her head. "Well, it could be good for PR. It has been a while since we've been seen out and about outside of missions."

"It'd be kind of funny to see Cap eat a Bomb Pop," Sam admits. "In an ironic sort of way."

"Is this really happening?" Scott asks. "Because I feel like I should be blogging about this or something."

" … What's an orange dreamsicle?" Wanda asks, and the team freezes.

Twenty minutes later, they're sprawled across two tables in Central Park, Wanda happily munching on an orange dreamsicle. Clint, who has somehow managed to eat fifteen ice cream sandwiches in five minutes, is whining at Nat, who's keeping the bag containing the rest of the sandwiches just out of his reach. Sharon, after much deliberation, had selected a strawberry shortcake ice cream, which she nibbles on delicately, watching Sam and Scott argue over the last Klondike bar.

"I'm the one who took out the queen centipede," Scott argues.

"I'm not arguing with you, just give me the damn Klondike bar. And besides, you did that with Clint and Tasha's help."

"This treat is reminiscent of the glorious Pop Tarts," Thor booms, mouth covered in rainbow sprinkles and chocolate syrup. "Are you not enjoying your victory delights, Man of Iron?"

"Mm? Uh, yeah. Sure." Tony would be listening, except he can't help but be distracted by the way the two super-soldiers currently seated on either side of him are eating their ice cream. He swallows as Bucky catches a few drops of melting ice cream with his thumb, sucking the appendage into his mouth.

"They're just as good as I remember," he groans, delicately breaking a bite off the top. Tony averts his eyes, sundae forgotten, and turns his gaze to Steve, who—

Who moans, lips sliding down his Bomb Pop, and Tony fumbles his sundae, nearly dropping it. "Wish they'd had these when we were kids, right, Buck?"

Bucky snorts. "We wouldn't have been able to afford them anyways." He grins, lapping up the side of his Drumstick. "Not that we wouldn't've smuggled a couple out of a shop. Though I think this time, I'd be the charm and you'd be the one with the sticky fingers. Hey, give me a lick."

Tony shovels the rest of his sundae into his mouth, refusing to watch as Bucky swallows Steve's Bomb Pop, sliding halfway down the stick and groaning. "That's a helluva lot more than a lick, Buck," Steve complains, and Bucky slides back up, licking his sticky lips.

"The way you two are eating your ice cream is making me very uncomfortable," Scott comments.

"I'm sure I'm far less qualified to pass any judgement in regards to consuming food, but I can't help but notice your particular manner of ingesting your ice cream is a bit—well, _lewd_ ," Vision notes.

"What are you trying to say?" Bucky asks, brow furrowing. His mouth widens to stretch around the head of his Drumstick, lips stretching, and Tony's spoon clatters from his grip.

"If Steve and Bucky want to deepthroat their popsicles instead of eating them like normal people, we should be respectful," Sam says through a mouthful of Klondike bar, and Wanda giggles.

"There are young ears here," Steve admonishes, and Sam snorts.

"Pretty sure Wanda knows already, if she hasn't figured out what deepthroating is from Clint's shitty porn."

"One time. One time, people! Can we let it go already?"

"Charming, but I meant _those_ young ears," Steve says drily, nodding at a group of children who are rollerblading in circles twenty feet away.

"Yeah, like their minds aren't permanently scarred from your popsicle-eating."

Steve only blinks at him innocently, sliding his popsicle down his throat. Tony excuses himself to throw away his half-eaten sundae.

* * *

 **three. touch**

Tony's tinkering with a 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster when he hears Steve hollering for him to turn down his music.

He pulls out from underneath the car, blinking in the bright light, and Steve smiles down at him. "What time is it? Is that sandwich for me?"

"Hello to you, too, and it's almost noon," Steve tells him, amused; he lifts the plate in his hand, and Tony's stomach gurgles at the sight. "And yes, I made you lunch. I hope you don't mind, it's egg salad."

"You're a doll," Tony groans, snatching the sandwich off the plate and cramming as much of it into his mouth as he can.

"When was the last time you slept?" Steve chastises gently. "You should take a break."

Tony pauses for a minute to swallow, then continues inhaling his sandwich. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Spangles. I took a nap two hours ago. I have a blanket to prove it. Also, FRIDAY can vouch for me."

"Actually, Boss, that was six hours ago, and Agent Romanoff provided the blanket," the AI supplies, and Tony frowns. He hadn't even realized she'd snuck down here, let alone that she'd been the one to tuck him in.

"Traitor. Still, I slept." Tony jabs a finger at Steve, who sighs. "Besides, I'm not tired."

"That so?" Steve watches him eat, ducking his head with a soft smile on his face, and Tony resists the urge to turn around so he doesn't have see him do it. "Then, I thought we could head down to the gym and go a few rounds."

"You want me to spar?" Tony asks around a mouthful of sandwich, swallowing hard. "With you?"

"Well, yes." Steve nods, leaning back and stretching. "You said you wanted more practice in hand-to-hand, right? And Bucky said you're finished with your latest project …"

Tony silently curses himself, stuffing the rest of the egg salad sandwich in his mouth and searching for some other excuse to wriggle his way out of sparring with Steve—he can't use his usual work excuse since Bucky told Steve he's nearly finished with the final draft of his synthetic skin. He doesn't have any meetings today and he can't beg Pepper to invent one on the spot, as she's off in Tokyo finishing a deal in Tony's place while finishes up his latest invention. Rhodey can't save him, as he's off at some diplomatic meeting in Argentina, and he can't say he's helping Bruce in his lab, as Bruce is off speaking at some convention in France on the potential benefits on dimensionally altering the speed of particle collisions.

He almost considers lying, but Steve's looking at him with those goddamn puppy eyes of his, and even if he'll never admit it, least of all to Steve, Tony can't say no to that look.

"Sounds great," he mumbles, and Steve lights up like a Christmas tree, giving Tony that god-awful smile that Tony's convinced actually emits sunlight. "Just gotta finish up here, run some more tests," he adds hurriedly, but Steve's radiant expression doesn't flicker in the slightest, only grows painfully fond.

"That's real swell, Tony," Steve murmurs, reaching out and placing a hand on Tony's arm; he slips into a Brooklyn drawl, and Tony curses internally again at the way that accent makes a spike of arousal shoot up his spine. "I'll be waiting down in the gym for you."

He squeezes Tony's arm gently and leaves, and Tony can't help but watch him go, eyes drifting absently down the super-soldier's frame before snapping up guiltily the moment his gaze reaches Steve's ... assets.

 _I'm so fucked_ , Tony thinks.

* * *

As it happens, that's far from the only time he thinks this while sparring with Steve in the old boxing ring over the course of the next three hours. Steve is fully clothed this time, instead wearing a sinfully tight white shirt and sweatpants. It is, unfortunately, making it a little difficult for Tony to focus, but at least he's not naked.

The idea of grappling with Steve like that, pressing up against every inch of that golden skin, sends a bolt of arousal coursing through him, and he forces the image away, trying to concentrate.

"You're favoring your left side too much," Steve tells him, throwing another punch before Tony can adjust and then sweeping his leg around, which Tony only barely manages to dodge. "Remember, you get better balance planting your feet flat."

"I get it, Cap," Tony says, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

Just as he remembers, Steve is a hard sparring partner, not simply because he's an excellent fighter, but also because he has a habit of coaching Tony while they spar, which wouldn't be so infuriating if he'd asked Steve to do it. Which he hasn't. Ever.

"Focus, Tony," Steve says, voice pleasantly warm and full of intent, and Tony huffs.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He demands, and curses internally when his next swing goes wide, Steve sidestepping with ease.

"Not focusing?" Steve's smirk makes Tony want to both land a punch and kiss it off his face, and he isn't entirely sure which one he wants more. "Don't snap your cap, sweetheart. It's not good to get so riled up, especially in the heat of battle."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Tony says through clenched teeth. He feints to the side and throws another punch, and Steve grabs his fists and yanks him forward, throwing him off-balance—Tony faceplants into his chest with an _oof_ , and then Steve's got his arms locked around Tony, keeping his arms trapped between them.

"Do you want me to go easy on you?" Steve asks, lips an inch from Tony's ear, arm tightening around his waist, and Tony winces, throwing his head back in a feint and then twisting hard, wrenching himself out of Steve's grip.

 _This_ , Tony thinks miserably, _is why I hate sparring with Steve_. It's not just the constant chastising or the constant bossy commentary, it's the way Steve spars—it's intimate, natural, and some way or another, Tony finds himself too close to Steve for comfort.

"I don't need your pity, Rogers," he snaps. Steve whips his leg around, throwing a series of jabs that, Tony realizes too late, push him into a corner.

"You know," Steve says conversationally, "you always call me something different when you're annoyed or trying to hide something. Usually Cap or Rogers."

"Do I?" Tony throws another punch, trying to step under Steve's arm.

"Yeah," Steve pants, "but I want you to me Steve." And then suddenly, he's on his back with Steve pinning him down with one knee. Quick as a flash, he captures Tony's hands, pinning them to the mat, and leans down, murmuring, " _Just_ Steve." Tony feels his breath puff against his ear, warm and feather-light, and represses a shiver.

"That an order, Rogers?" He asks, swallowing, and Steve's mouth curves up. He pulls back, and Tony isn't sure if it's just the lighting or if Steve's eyes are really that dark a blue.

"Depends on whether or not you're gonna keep actin' hardboiled," he drawls. "If you need me to tell you what to do."

"Maybe I don't like you ordering me around."

"Maybe you should listen to me anyway," Steve says, light and teasing, smile turning crooked as his grip tightens on Tony's wrists, " _or_ you could get used to being on your back."

If Tony didn't have a problem in his pants, he sure does now, which would be kind of hilarious in any other situation, except where Tony is now, pinned under him, capable of being discovered at any moment …

"What's wrong, Tony?" Steve asks, all soft and sweet, the manipulative bastard. "You look like you're going to explode."

"Or maybe I'd just like you to get your heavy ass off me," he tries to quip, but it comes out too shaky, too forced. Steve cocks his head to the side, sweet expression melting into a smirk, and well, _fuck_ , there goes all hope of getting his little problem to go down anytime soon.

"Come on, Tony," he teases, hand a solid vice, knee a rock. "Just say my name, I'll let you up, and you can run away." His smirk widens. "I promise I'll give you a head start."

"Mind if I cut in?" And thank the heavens, Tony has never been more grateful to hear that voice. Bucky makes his way to the ring with his hands jammed in his pockets and a smile on his face, swinging under the ropes, and Tony could kiss him.

"Hey, Buck." Steve turns his head to capture Bucky's lips, and if that isn't a sight, watching Steve kiss Bucky while trapped underneath him, unable to do anything but watch as Bucky deepens the kiss with a hum, smiling against Steve's mouth.

"You gonna let him up or what?" Bucky murmurs, and Steve pulls back, sighing.

"I suppose." Tony gets out from under Steve— _gracefully_ , he does not _scramble_ because he is a fully grown _adult_ —and ducks out of the ring, snatching his water bottle and hurrying out of the gym.

"You still need that head start?" Steve calls after him, but Tony keeps his pace, half-sprinting out of the gym. With any luck, Bucky will distract him, and the two will stay in the gym for at least an hour or two—enough time for Tony to grab some food from the kitchen and then lock himself in his lab for the next twelve hours.

* * *

 **four. watch**

Prior to the team moving into the Tower, Tony spent much of his time in his workshop alone and without anyone to disturb him while he worked. He wasn't without interruptions—Pepper would come in with paperwork once a week, and Rhodey and Happy once a month to drag him out of the lab to eat and sleep.

After, of course, he grew used to prank wars with Clint and Nat, and Bruce's quiet yet comforting presence; Thor, when he was present, filled the tower with bright, booming laughter. Peter would stop by with questions for Tony and Bruce, especially after he began college. Vision would attempt to cook food, Wanda would get rid of it before it stunk up the Tower, and Sam would usher everyone out of the kitchen and whack Tony and Clint's thieving fingers each time they swiped at whatever he was cooking.

None, however, ever made themselves at home in his workshop until Steve and Bucky.

Originally, most of the time Steve spent in Tony's lab was used nagging Tony about taking better care of himself or being reckless and risking his life yet again after a mission. As time passed, the bickering turned to talking, mostly Tony chattering technical jargon while he worked and Steve half-listening while he drew in his sketchbook. When Bucky moved in, he made a home on one of the old couches pushed to the side of the room with Steve and watched Tony, occasionally migrating to Tony's side and handing him tools.

The helping and the drawing part was fine—in fact, Tony had grown used to their presence in his workshop, mostly quiet but always listening. The hard part was the watching. More often than not, and especially as of late, Tony couldn't shake the feeling that they were staring at him, and it made him oddly hot under the collar.

It's all in his head, of course, but the more time passes, the more he swears he can feel their gazes on him, and it _burns_ , makes the back of his neck tingle, breath seizing in his throat, cheeks growing embarrassingly red.

Worst of all, it's messing with his productivity. There was a time when he could crank out three different mind-boggling inventions a month, but lately he's struggling to complete _one_. It's not even from lack of ideas—he can feel the inspiration bubbling at the corners of his mind, waiting to be realized—it's because he can't fully access his brain when it's fuzzed out simply by the mere presence of the Steve and Bucky.

He doesn't have the heart to lock either super-soldier out of his lab; the last time he tried that, Steve wouldn't stop giving him the damn puppy eyes and Bucky moped in the kitchen and baked enough sweets to fill the entire fridge, tossing out the leftover shawarma, much to Clint's dismay.

Eventually, the other Avengers had an intervention, demanding that Tony let the two back into the lab so that Bucky would actually let Sam cook "some real food, Tony, if I have to eat another goddamn lemon bar for dinner I swear", and Steve would, in Natasha's words, "stop making everyone else in the tower sad, I am a spy, Tony, I didn't sign up for this shit". Wanda complained that Steve's mothering habits had gotten worse ("He called me 'young lady' and tried to enforce a curfew"), and Sharon griped about their pouting ("When I said to be like a tree and plant yourself, I didn't mean 'hog all the equipment in the gym'"). Thor refused to return to the tower until it was "merry once more", instead choosing to remain on Asgard, and Bruce had taken to locking himself in his lab to avoid the two super-soldiers attempting to fill the void by watching Bruce work instead. Even Vision admitted that he had grown tired of their antics, stating that "Sergeant Barnes keeps attempting to feed me crème brulee, and I can't ingest food". As Scott put it, "it's just really awkward, man, and that's coming from _me_ ".

Needless to say, with a complete lack of support from his team (thanks, guys), he's stuck with both the blessing and the curse of the super-soldiers and the mysterious sensation of being watched that seems to follow him whenever they're around.

It seems it's the same situation every time—he works on a new invention he's been stuck on for the past few weeks, the sensation appears and distracts the hell out of him, and he doesn't finish working on his project and has to push back the deadline for releasing it again. This time, it's the latest addition to his line of eyewear—a pair of glasses that, along with automatically adjusting to proper prescription lenses, prevents visual sensory overload, reduces the severity of panic attacks and dissociative experiences, and guides wearers to safer locations and to medical treatment.

It's an invention Tony himself is particularly proud of—he just needs to work out the kinks. Unfortunately, it's difficult to work on an invention when you have two distractingly attractive super-soldiers in your lab with you, especially if one of them is sitting right next to you and (of fucking course) said super-soldier doesn't have a shirt on.

"You know, they do make these things called shirts," Tony drawls, keeping his gaze fixed on his glasses. "I know you grandpas are old, but I'm pretty sure they at least had shirts back in your day."

"Eh, we just ran around naked and hit each other with sticks," Bucky says easily. He seems far closer than usual, eyes half-lidded and hot, and Tony's breath catches in his throat. Then Bucky smiles, good-natured and serene, and presses the tool into Tony's hand with a grin. "You wanted the jeweler's one, right?"

"Right," Tony chokes out. God, he's a _mess_ , not even able to handle Bucky handing him a tool. "I'll just—" He turns back to the glasses, hesitating. "Uh."

 _All in your head_ , he tells himself, tucking his loupe back over his eye, and tries to remember what he'd needed the tool for in the first place.

The screw on the left side is off by a fraction of a millimeter—most likely a manufacturing error, though he'll have to check his factory in person to make sure—and it's just enough to screw with the calibration of the glasses' programs, specifically those that deal with locational services. They're off by just a foot, but it's a foot too much, and so Tony sets himself to work, scribbling calculations.

He's so deep in thought that the next time he tries to pick up his pen, he grabs his screwdriver instead, and lets it roll too far when he discards it in search of his pen. "Fuck," he grinds out as the screwdriver slips from the table, fumbling madly for it before it clatters on the floor.

As he bends over to pick it up, the inexplicable sensation intensifies, and he scrambles for the tool and straightens with a snap, cheeks flushing. It feels like he's being _undressed_.

He tries to ignore it and continue working, but eventually, it's too much to take—it feels like he's being caressed, like fingers or tongues trailing feather-light and achingly slow up his spine, and it makes Tony's legs feel like jelly. He can't be imagining it, it's too real, too vivid, too raw a sensation for it to exist solely within the confines of his mind.

With another internal swear, Tony chances a quick glance, unable to stop himself from looking any longer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve, half-smirking and gaze burning, lips just barely parted, and his breath catches in his throat. Tony whirls around with a jerk, half stumbling, and—

And finds Steve staring intently at his notebook with a frown, nose crinkling the way it does when he's deep in thought. He glances up at Tony and smiles, fond and brief, before turning his attention back to his sketchbook.

Tony deflates, caught up in a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment. Of course it's all in his head. It has to be. He's just imagining—longing for it, really, wanting them to look at him like that even for a fraction of a moment.

* * *

 **five. kiss**

In hindsight, he should have realized it would come to this, but they were season tickets and Steve and Bucky loved the Dodgers, and Tony couldn't stop picturing the looks on their faces when he handed Steve the tickets.

Of course, he wasn't stingy—he bought one for each of the team members, so they could all go and entertain themselves with watching the two super-soldiers act like typical superfans—but that meant he was counting on the whole team to go and enjoy the experience.

Instead, Bruce, who'd gotten an overwhelmingly positive response from the other scientists at the conference, had taken several of them up on an offer to attend a post-conference workshop, and so would be gone for another few days. Nat, Clint, and Sharon would be out for nearly a month on a total-silence mission, Scott was visiting his daughter for her twelfth birthday, Thor was visiting Dr. Foster, and Rhodey wasn't coming back until the following Tuesday. That left Sam, Vision, and Wanda, and Sam—

"You sure you'll be all right?" Steve asks, all concern.

"I'd love to go," Sam says, voice hoarse, "but I'm a little under the weather at the moment."

"No shit, Tweety Bird," Bucky grumbles. "I _told_ you you should've let me or Stevie be the ones to pull that kitten from the pond."

Sam coughs wetly, shoulders shaking with effort, then falls back against his pillow, curling up in a ball and sniffling. Tony sighs, patting his side. "Yeah, no offense, Wilson, but I think you might cause a flu epidemic, and we don't need another lawsuit on our hands."

"That last one was your fault," Sam mumbles, trailing off before he starts to snore.

"I should remain here to care for him," Vision tells him. "I've read somewhere that chicken noodle soup is a viable cure for his illness."

When he floats off to the kitchen, Wanda approaches the three with a harried expression. "I should probably stay behind and make sure he doesn't almost burn down the building. Again."

It's not that Tony isn't comfortable around the two by himself—on the contrary, it's because it's too easy to fall into step beside them, warm and secure between them with their arms tucked snugly around his shoulders or looped around his waist. He's used to being with them, utterly familiar with their presence, separately or together, and it's because he knows he shouldn't be that it hurts to be with them.

Not that that's not easy to forget when you have two very angry, very loud super-soldiers shouting and waving their hands at the players on the field. Because it is _very_ easy to forget, mostly because _it's fucking hilarious_.

"Come on!" Steve bellows, flinging a hand up and nearly whacking an equally incensed Bucky in the face.

"Are you fuckin'—let's go, coach, put some decent players in already!" Bucky snarls, and Tony reaches out with his free hand to catch Bucky's caramel corn before it falls out of his lap. "Oh—sorry, Tones."

"Mm, no, it's fine," Tony says, holding in his laughter, and taps his screen with his thumb, ending the recording; later, he knows, he's going to have a blast watching this with the rest of the team. There's no point in teasing the two super-soldiers about their particular style in game-watching—they're completely shameless about it, even after Scott "accidentally" leaks a video of them yelling—but it's still fun to watch the foam practically drip from their mouths alongside Nat and Sam with their utterly unimpressed expressions and Clint laughing so hard that tears literally roll down his cheeks.

Maybe it's karma for filming them again and then sending it to Scott, or maybe it's just plain rotten luck, because when he returns in the middle of the seventh inning from a bathroom break and sits back down, chuckling at Scott's text, Bucky nudges him with an elbow and points up at the Jumbotron.

"Hm? Oh, fuck."

He's pretty sure the person running it must be an Avengers fan and a proud supporter of Steve and Bucky's relationship, because they've somehow managed to capture him between the two super-soldiers and is flashing the words "KISS CAM" in bright red letters.

Tony winces, tugging his baseball cap further down over his face; it's probably bad enough that the two resident super-soldiers are going to end up all over the news for yelling and swearing at a Dodgers game yet again—they don't need Tony and his reputation to get thrown into the mix.

"Guess it's up to us, Buck," Steve says, and Bucky hums in agreement and leans over, bracing one hand on Tony's knee. Steve mirrors him, and Tony starts leaning back, averting his eyes, and—

And suddenly there are two pairs of lips planted firmly on either cheek, far too close to his mouth, firm and warm, lingering there for far too long, and Tony doesn't realize he's forgotten to breathe until his vision starts to grow a bit fuzzy. He can feel them both sliding their hands up his thighs, Bucky stroking up and down with agonizing slowness, Steve squeezing dangerously high up his leg.

They don't pull away for what seems like hours, or perhaps several days (Tony isn't entirely sure, he thinks he may have blacked out at some point) and when they finally do, his brain continues to short-circuit. By the time he finally comes back to himself, the Kiss Cam is off, the game is back in session, and both super-soldiers are screaming at the top of their lungs.

Suddenly, Tony finds he's regretting buying them the season tickets.

* * *

Later, when they've returned home, Steve walks Tony down to his lab while Bucky goes up to check to make sure Vision hasn't accidentally murdered Sam. For once, Tony can't find anything to say, especially when Steve corners him, trapping him against a cluttered desk.

"You know, you don't have to keep giving us things, Tony," Steve says quietly. "Me or Buck. I know you want us to be happy living in the tower, but you don't have to worry. We're doing just fine." His smile softens, and he squeezes Tony's hand. "We want to be here. With _you_."

"Stevie?" Bucky pops his head in through the door. "Sam's asleep, but Wanda's still trying to clean Vision's soup off the walls. Think maybe you should help us out before it starts sprouting limbs and growling."

"We'll give you some space for now," Steve promises. "Just—don't hesitate to ask for something, all right? Anything at all."

"Right," Tony mumbles. "Good talk. Let's …" he trails off as the door shuts behind the two. " … never do this again."

* * *

 **+one. date**

The answer comes to Tony when he's down in his lab in the midst of sawing through titanium, the realization so sudden and jarring that he nearly cuts his hand off. Suddenly, Tony understands exactly what Steve was trying to say.

It's because they feel _bad_ for him.

The revelation is both deeply relieving and painfully heartbreaking, Tony finds, because _of course_ , it all makes sense now. He'd broken up with Pepper, after all, and with Rhodey on loan to the United Nations, they must have seen that he was lonely, maybe even noticed he was pining after them, and they'd taken pity on him.

 _But maybe_ , a traitorous part of his brain thinks, _it's not just pity_. _Maybe they_ like _you_.

It's a ridiculous idea, of course. Tony's past forty, an ex-alcoholic with heart problems and a mental state worth shit, and they're golden, two beautiful, strong men trapped in their mid-thirties for a lifetime and more, two halves of a whole. They belong together, just the two of them. Even if they did love Tony the way he loves them, Tony would just be an add-on, a pointless third wheel, and he knows it. There's nothing he can give them but his work, but money, but the team.

God, and it's so hard to give them up, because he _wants_ them, craves their laughter and their smiles, aches every time they smile at him with that sugar-sweet fondness, like he means something special. He wants them and everything that could mean, even shouting matches with Steve for hours, even Bucky's bad days when he shuts everyone out. He loves them so much he forgets he doesn't deserve them, forgets that they could have so much better than a used-up, broken old man with a penchant for reckless behavior.

And so, after allowing Bucky to ply him with sweets and Steve to usher him up to bed to rest, he begins the following day by heading straight to the compound's main lab.

* * *

Everything is going according to plan until Steve wanders into his lab right as Tony's leaving, fully dressed and fixing his tie.

"Tony?" Steve's got a bright, hopeful smile on his face, and Tony's chest clenches for a moment before he shakes himself. "I know this is short notice, but Bucky and I were hoping you would—"

"Ah …" Tony forces a laugh. "Sorry, Cap, but whatever you got planned, I gotta take a rain check." He gestures to himself vaguely. "Kinda got a hot date tonight."

"You're … going on a date?" Steve asks, eyes widening.

"Yeah. Uh, you remember Helen. World-renowned geneticist, made the Cradle, lab got destroyed by that evil android I made. It's been a couple years, I suppose."

"You're going," Steve says slowly, "on a date. With Dr. Cho."

"Yeah. I, um, got us a private table at Antonio's." Tony smiles; Steve doesn't, only narrows his eyes, lips tightly pursed. "Thought I'd try the romantic approach for once. Rooftop dinner and all."

"I don't understand." And then Steve's stepping into his space, fingers tracing light, slow lines up his arms, and Tony has to stop himself from shutting his eyes and relaxing into the familiar touch. "Did—did we have a misunderstanding?"

His eyes are filled with concern, and he captures Tony's chin with his fingers, tilting his face up gently. "No," Tony says, pulling out of his grip, "I understand. I mean, sort of? I know what you want now, or what you think I need. And it's—it's fine, okay? I'm fine. I've got it covered. So." Tony swallows. "You don't have to feel bad anymore. Hey, I think I left something in the lab. Don't wait up."

" _Tony_ —"

But Tony's already fleeing, hurrying back into his lab and snapping for FRIDAY to initiate blackout mode before Steve can follow him. When he collapses into his favorite rolling chair at one of his desks, he can hear Steve's footsteps and the faint sound of knocking, and then Steve's voice, clearly annoyed, just outside his lab.

"FRIDAY, turn on some music," he says tiredly, and the AI complies, blasting AC/DC at full volume. "And open up the garage. I think I can sneak out through the side."

Because Tony's locked himself in his lab, he doesn't see the expression of complete and utter exasperation on Steve's face. "Christ," Steve blasphemes, and right at that moment, Bucky wanders up behind him, a plate full of crackers and a jar of plum jam in his hands.

"Steve?" Bucky frowns. "What's going on? Did Tony lock us out of his lab again?"

Steve lets out a long, suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bucky," he says evenly, "We have a problem."

* * *

"You realize this isn't going to erase whatever feelings you have for Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes, right?"

"How did you know it was them?" Tony demands, and Helen rolls her eyes.

They're in Tony's red Spyder Maserati on the way to his favorite Italian restaurant—the one off Broadway—for dinner. Helen looks stunning as always in a lovely one-shouldered Lanvin and a pair of Yves Saint Laurent pumps, hair falling in loose waves by her shoulders. Tony would almost be attracted to her if his mind wasn't full of blue-eyed super-soldiers with smiles so painfully sweet it made his heart ache.

"Tony, everyone who isn't currently in a vegetative state knows you're in love with those two. Half of what the tabloids say about you nowadays involve your supposed attempts to break up the resident superhero power couple. Not that they're true, of course," she adds, sighing at the stricken look on Tony's face.

"I—I just need to get back in the game, you know?" He tells her, almost pleading, rubbing the back of his neck. "The tabloids—they're not totally wrong, at least not about me, and you know me, even _I_ wouldn't break those two up. They're like—peanut butter and jelly, or french fries and ice cream."

"French fries and ice cream are disgusting together," Helen tells him, "and peanut butter and jelly needs bread or crackers."

"Did you just compare me to gluten?" Tony demands, and Helen sighs, folding her hands on her lap.

"My point is, Tony, that I am a very busy woman, and I don't exactly appreciate being called away from creating permanent genetic immunities to hereditary conditions to be your rebound from a breakup that never happened in the first place."

"Come on, Helen." Tony spreads his arms. "It'd be just like the old days, right?"

"Tony, the 'old days' for us constituted of you vomiting in someone's backyard and me apologizing to the homeowner," Helen says bluntly. "And even then, that was more Rhodey's job than mine."

"Helen, _please_. I need this, okay? This—it's freaking me out, I can't even handle either of them with their shirts off or watch them eat popsicles anymore. _Popsicles_. I am _losing my mind_." Tony runs a hand over his face. "I just—need to get my mind off them for a little bit, and I'll be fine."

Helen mutters something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like 'yeah you keep telling yourself that', then shakes her head. "You know I'm only doing this for the food."

"But you're still doing it," Tony tells her gleefully.

Much to Helen's exasperated amusement, Tony remains cheery for the rest of the ride, humming acknowledgements when the conversation turns to science, letting Tony babble in excitement about his breakthroughs with the synthetic skin and the new additions he's been adding to his glasses. In turn, he listens with genuine fascination to Helen talk about her advancements in biochemical engineering to synthesize memories into digital replicas and her massive breakthrough in synthesizing adaptive gene switches, potentially eradicating hereditary diseases. He's in bright spirits when they pull up in front of the restaurant, even when the maitre'd finds herself caught dealing with an angry old man about precise butter measurements on his bread and they're kept waiting in the lobby. In fact, he's in such a pleasant mood, he doesn't stop to recognize the sound of a very familiar Harley pulling up outside the door, nor does he notice the two very annoyed looking super-soldiers walking into the restaurant behind him until it's far too late to make a run for it.

"Well, who's brainchild is this?" Someone drawls from behind him, and Tony stiffens, turning around to see Bucky and Steve, both of whom are glaring at him. They look gorgeous, both dressed in the same suits Tony and Nat make them wear for the occasional gala; Bucky is sleek in his grey tuxedo with his long hair tied back in a neat bun, tugging at his tie and wincing. He's clean-shaven, jawline mouthwateringly sharp, though Steve, oddly enough, is not. His midnight blue suit is a lovely complement to Bucky's, and together, with their twin cloudy expressions, they are a picture of sexuality and intimidation.

"Mr. Stark," Steve says coolly. "What a pleasant surprise."

The words "What the hell are you two doing here?" come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Bucky raises an eyebrow, still unsmiling. The lines of Bucky's frame are tense, his eyes narrowed slightly and his usual soft expression sharp and hard, hands jammed in his pockets.

"It's date night," he says tightly. "Stevie and I thought going out for Italian at a swanky restaurant sounded like a real ball. Thanks for introducing us to Antonio's, by the way."

"It is Bucky's favorite, after all," Steve says. From where he stands beside Bucky, Steve is far more relaxed, face neutral and polite, but Tony can tell he's bothered from the way his arms are crossed, his stance wide and stubborn.

"Ah …" Tony shakes his head. "Helen, you know Steve and Bucky."

"Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes." She nods; for some reason, there's a hint of amusement in her features. Tony can't figure out what's so funny, but that might be because Bucky's currently attempting to burn a hole through his skull with his eyes.

"Dr. Cho. Well, since we're here, why don't we eat together?" Steve says easily. There's no room for argument in his tone, but Helen simply shrugs easily.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Tony?"

He shoots her an irritated glare, and she smiles. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Swell. But first—if you'll excuse us, ma'am," Steve says pleasantly, hooking his arm around Tony, "we have to go powder our noses."

"That's fine. I'll get our table." Helen's gaze wanders as she waves over the maitre'd, and before Tony can sidle out from Steve's grip, Bucky's on his other side, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"But I'm not wearing any makeup," Tony protests to no avail. He shoots a desperate, pleading look at Helen over his shoulder, who mouths 'good luck' at him before following the maitre'd, the absolute _traitor_.

And then Bucky's shutting the door to the bathroom behind them, locking it with a _click_ , and suddenly Steve's hands are no longer on his waist, but lower, eyes burning and full of _want_ , and Tony represses a squeak.

"Apparently," Steve breathes, fingers squeezing handfuls of Tony's ass, "Bucky and I did not make ourselves clear enough."

And oh. _Oh_.

Tony is a _fool_.

"For a genius," Bucky murmurs in his ear. "You're real fuckin' slow to pick things up."

"This is okay, right?" Steve asks breathlessly. "I mean—"

"Is this—Christ, Steve, just fucking _kiss me_ ," Tony demands, and then Steve's kissing him, pushing him against the wall and pinning his hands there, and Tony makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, melting against the bigger man as Steve devours his mouth.

"You," Steve gasps between kisses, "are the most," his lips move down Tony's neck, and he shudders, clutching at Steve's head, "clueless man I have ever _met_."

"Do I get a turn?" Bucky murmurs, lips pressed to his ear, and Tony shudders, hand flying back to latch a hand tight in his hair, tugging it out of its bun.

" _God_ , yes," He manages, and then Bucky's whirling him around and shoving his tongue down Tony's throat.

While Steve kisses are strong and sure, Bucky's are hot and messy with clashing tongues and nipping teeth, and Tony whimpers a little as Bucky's hand slide down to grab handfuls of his ass.

"Christ, look at him, Buck," Steve murmurs, low and moaning, and Bucky pulls away, leaving Tony swaying a little, gasping, painfully hard. Whatever he looks like, Bucky must approve, because the soldier groans low and throaty, eyes burning as he reaches out to slip his thumb along Tony's swollen lips and slide into his trembling mouth.

"D'you know," Bucky growls, "how much you get under me an' Stevies skins?" He leans forward, mouth inches from Tony's ear. "How much it _aches_ to see you box with Happy and watch how your skin glistens with sweat?"

"You look gorgeous when you're panting and dripping," Steve adds, moving to Tony's other ear, hand moving to grab his hip possessively. "Or when your eyes light up when you've made a breakthrough—all sweet and innocent, I can't help but want to _wreck_ you."

"Did you know you bite your lip when you're thinking?" Bucky asks. "God, your kisser gets so pretty, all swollen and red. Or those goddamn fingers of yours. Real long, aren't they, Stevie?"

"Graceful," Steve agrees, and Tony whimpers as the two take firm hold of his hands, jolting as Bucky flicks his tongue against two of his fingers, slow and torturous. Steve swallows three on his other hand down with a moan that _vibrates_ , lips stretching around them, sucking, and Tony mewls, loud and shaky and desperate.

"F—fuck," Tony grinds out, fingers trembling, and the two release his fingers with a pop.

"Wanna taste you so bad," Bucky groans, nipping his fingers and reaching down to fondle his ass slow and sure. "Take that pretty cock of yours and make it _weep_ , get you all loose and sloppy—"

"See you lose control," Steve pants, cupping the painful bulge in Tony's pants, rubbing and stroking firmly, and Tony shudders and arches into the touch with a needy moan, eyes rolling back. "Wanna make you _beg_ for it, fuck you till you can't walk straight, make you mine— "

"Mine," Bucky hisses, licking up Tony's neck.

" _Ours_ ," they growl in unison, and it's too much, Steve grinding with one hand and pinching one nipple hard with the other, Bucky squeezing his ass possessively and sucking a hickey into his neck, and Tony comes with a high-pitched whine, stumbling as his legs give out from beneath him, utterly blissed out.

Steve catches him by sliding his arm around Tony's waist, grip firm and steady. "You good, sweetheart?" he murmurs, nibbling at Tony's ear.

"Tones?" Bucky slips a finger under Tony's chin and tilts his face toward him, gaze full of concern. "C'mon, Tin Can, say somethin'."

" … Oh," Tony finally manages, and the two laugh, Bucky rolling his eyes. In one fluid moment, Steve scoops him up into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

"Yeah, _oh_." Bucky pulls off his suit jacket and tucks it over Tony, kissing his forehead.

"This isn't exactly how either of us planned for this to go," Steve admits, a bit sheepish. "Thought you'd appreciate it if we tried to court you instead of just dragging you to bed with us."

"We thought you'd assume we saw you as a pushover, and we wanted to do right by you," Bucky says earnestly. "We've been carryin' torches for you for years now."

"I've been stuck on you since New York," Steve confesses.

"What a coincidence," Tony says under his breath, and Steve smiles, ducking his head.

"We wanted to give you more time to think about what you want from this. From us." Bucky nuzzles his cheek, pressing a kiss to Tony's brow. "Also, it was kind of fun to watch you squirm," he adds, and Steve elbows him. "What? It was cute."

"Wait a second." Tony stares at them both, eyes narrowing. "The—the _popsicles_?" He gasps in outrage at the twin smirks that appear on their faces. "Oh my god, that was on purpose! And—and the staring, and the sparring, and the shirtlessness—"

Bucky laughs. "Y'know, sweetheart, I'll be honest, I thought you'd figured it out that time with the nude painting and King T'Challa."

"We are sorry for jumping you like this," Steve says softly, stroking a thumb over Tony's still-swollen lips.

"I'm not," Bucky says with a shrug, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"My point is, I know we should have talked this out first, laid out boundary lines. A plan of attack, if you will." Tony snorts.

"We're serious, baby doll," Bucky says quietly. "This—us—Stevie and me, we don't want a one-time thing, and we're not lookin' for just sex."

"We want forever," Steve murmurs, eyes bright. "If that's what you want, we're ready to try. And … if not … well, Buck and I'll just have to be okay with that."

Tony looks at them both, taking in their expressions, so painfully hopeful. "I'm not young anymore." He exhales long and slow, searching their faces. "God, even—even if, by some miracle, this actually works out—I'm reckless and self-centered and arrogant and I just—I'm kind of a handful," Tony says, shaky laugh cutting off abruptly when their faces soften.

"Sugar, you're talking to an ex-assassin who spent over seventy years under the control of an evil neo-nazi terrorist organization," Bucky quips. "And don't even get me started on Steve."

Tony chuckles, but it comes out breathless, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. "Bucky, even if it works out … I'm not a super-soldier. I—I'm past _forty_. Statistically speaking, you'll probably get another three decades, if I'm lucky."

"Sweetheart," Steve says softly, "If we had three weeks, we would take those three weeks and cherish every moment of them."

"It would be worth every second," Bucky whispers, and Tony lets out a quiet noise, overwhelmed, eyes flicking back and forth between them.

"You two," he says finally, mouth curling up in a smile, shaking his head, "are the biggest fucking saps I have ever met."

Bucky laughs, Steve ducking his head with a smile, and it's a bright thing, and maybe Tony fucks up more than he fixes things, but god, this time, this time—he thinks maybe he's got it right.

* * *

Helen isn't surprised when Tony comes out of the bathroom in Captain Rogers' arms, half-hidden under Sergeant Barnes' suit jacket with his face buried in Captain Rogers' neck. She's seen the pictures in the tabloids, after all, and from the way cameras and phones are flashing, the three are about to end up plastered on the front page yet again.

To be honest, she wasn't even surprised when Tony had asked her out on the date—they'd been friends for years, after all, she knows what it looks like when he's in love, and that includes when he's trying to deny the fact—although she is impressed that both super-soldiers managed to track the two of them down so quickly.

Luckily for her, she'd spotted a few of her friends and joined them for dinner, awaiting her "date" to be officially "canceled". In any case, the pomegranate salad sounds delicious.

"Is that—Captain America?" Her friend Vanessa murmurs, craning her neck to gape at the three. "Oh my God, is that— _the Winter Soldier_?"

"Holy shit, that's _Tony_ ," Monique whispers. "Is he okay? What's going on?"

As the three pass by, Captain Rogers nods at her politely, but Sergeant Barnes glares at her before Captain Rogers drags him away by the hand. Really, it's kind of cute.

"I think it's fine," she says. "I hear they're a bit of a handful, but I think Tony can manage."

Monique and Vanessa shoot her dubious looks, and she shrugs, sipping her iced tea. She'd probably get a call from an angry Colonel demanding to know why she let this happen and several dozen teary texts from Ms. Potts bemoaning just how bad the two were for Tony, but now, lunch awaited, and she was _very_ hungry.

(The pomegranate salad was delicious, by the way.)

* * *

 **i just have a lot of headcanons okay**

 **also please review**


	2. 26 Secrets About Superheroes

**26 Secrets About Superheroes (You're Dying To Know)**

 **An alphabet of sleepless nights, jewelry, pornos, broken hands, a very unlucky cactus, and love.**

* * *

 **A. arm**

Natasha's talking with Sharon when Bucky sidles into the doorway of her bedroom, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly.

Sharon scratches idly at her nose. "I'm just saying, I loved the show and I do think there should be more than twelve episodes, but I don't trust Joss Whedon to—"

"—finish it without making everyone hate it?" Natasha makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. "I bet if they changed the director, the show would still do fine." She spots Bucky and raises one eyebrow. "What'd you do this time?"

Bucky clears his throat and lifts his arm, which immediately locks up and shoots to the side in an odd position. Sharon snorts in amusement, and Natasha sighs. "Sharon, you mind swiping a pair of pliers for me?"

Sharon shrugs, hopping off the bed. "Hey, you should wear that one gold dress to the gala."

Nat wrinkles her nose. "With the ruffles? Too restricting."

"You're not gonna be taking anyone out during the gala," Sharon calls over her shoulder.

Natasha rolls her eyes, turning back to Bucky, who sits on the bed with a sullen expression. "Damn, you really did a number on it. Shouldn't it have been done like five months ago? He's going to get suspicious eventually."

Bucky mumbles under his breath, shifting as she inspects his arm. Technically, his new arm should have been finished just over six months ago, and it would have, except—except, well, Bucky may or may not be tinkering with his arm.

It's not that he doesn't like the arm Tony built for him—on the contrary, he _loves_ it. It's incredibly lightweight despite its immense strength, connects to his nervous system and allows him to feel pressure and temperature, and is still easily detachable for cleaning and maintenance. Besides that, it's … well, it's _beautiful_ , a sleek, streamlined creation, built with all the love and care he knows Tony invents with. Of _course_ Bucky loves it.

In fact, it's so easy to clean his arm that Bucky does it himself. Repeatedly. And may or may not screw with some of the parts. If he has to keep spending hours in Tony's lab while the genius fixes his arm, well, that's a complete and total accident.

Of course it is.

So maybe he feels a _little_ guilty, but it certainly isn't as if he's fibbing about something serious! Tony would probably laugh his ass off if he found out. It's a bit of a silly story—lovestruck ex-assassin messes with his arm so he can spend more time with the fella he's stuck on? Tony would think it was ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that Bucky vows he'll never tell the man.

This time, however, it seems he's gone a little too far with "un-fixing" his arm. Then again, it was probably a bad idea to melt a few of the more important-looking cords right before Bucky's big gala, because now not only does his arm ache, but he won't even get to show his face at the fancy ball the team is literally holding in his honor.

" _Please_ tell me you can fix it in time," Bucky pleads.

"I don't know what to tell you," Nat says, shaking her head with a sigh. "You really did a number on this circuitry. I don't think even Tony can fix this before the gala. We might have to—"

"No!" Without thinking, Bucky's flesh hand shoots out to clasp Nat's. "I can do this. I _want_ to do this," he insists, meeting Tony's startled gaze. "Tasha—I can do it. Arm or no arm. I gotta show these big cheeses I ain't a threat to 'em."

Nat gives him a soft, sad look, squeezing his hand with a tired sigh. "I know, зайка. Now," she says emphatically, " _I_ am going to get dressed, and _you_ are going to explain to Cap why you're not going to be able to actually entertain anyone at _your_ gala."

Bucky grins at her. "You really should wear the gold dress, by the way. Makes you look real spiffy."

"If you like it so much, you can wear it," Natasha tells him, and Bucky laughs. "You'll be fine, зайка. What could happen?"

* * *

 **B. bite**

Unlike many of their fellow teammates, Sharon, Carol, Wanda, and Nat are actually willing to leave the comfort of their beds at four in the morning and are quick enough to respond first to a distress call, and so the four are usually the ones whom end up tasked with early-morning missions while the rest of their teammates grumble and groan like children. This time, however, the one other teammate who actually managed to roll out of bed and join them in time is Tony, who is uncharacteristically silent the entire time, probably due to the lack of coffee in his system.

As always, they're quick to finish up the mission, this time against a small-time villain who's apparently obsessed with turning everything into cats via a strange cat-ray run on what appears to be magic, toothpaste, and tin foil. It only takes a well-aimed yo-yo and some quick thinking to take them out, secure them in handcuffs, and deliver them to the waiting hands of the Los Angeles police force.

Out of nowhere, the strange ray this latest villain is toting decides to explode in Wanda's hands; while she's quick enough to contain the explosion, she's not fast enough to stop the ray that bursts from the gun and strikes a half-asleep Tony dead on the chest, sending him careening backwards into a wall.

"Shit!" Sharon, Carol, and Nat sprint towards the prone suit, Wanda gritting her teeth while she keeps the explosion contained. It takes a minute, especially with Natasha and Sharon's startled exclaims in the background, but she finally releases the smoke with a hard exhale just as the three rush past her, chasing what looks to be a tiny black kitten that runs into her leg and claws its way up her thigh.

"Get that cat!"

"Um."

"Gotcha!" Carol yanks the kitten off her leg with a triumphant cry. "Faster than he looks."

Wanda blinks, frowning at the kitten; its brown eyes are startlingly familiar. "Is that—"

"Tony," Natasha finishes with a sigh, rubbing her temples. "The suit protected him from getting injured, but the ray went right through it."

"It's too damn early for this," Sharon says wearily. "You wouldn't happen to know how to change him back, would you?"

"I could try?" Wanda says, uncertain, rubbing her arm in discomfort. "I have never done something like this before."

"Will you stop wriggling, I am trying to help!" Carol snaps, then yelps and drops Tony, who hits the ground with a thump and a startled mewl, and yes, it's definitely Tony, not simply because Wanda has never known a cat to be so clumsy, but because the wide-eyed, pouty look he shoots Carol is one she's only ever seen on Tony's face.

"He _bit_ me," Carol says, wide-eyed and incredulous. "He actually bit me."

"You're bleeding," Nat observes, cocking an eyebrow at Tony, who looks about as guilty as a small, fluffy kitten possibly can.

Sharon fishes through the pockets of her jacket, tugging out a Band-Aid. "Sorry, they're Hello Kitty themed." Carol takes it with a grumble, shooting Tony an irritated look.

Wanda kneels and reaches out to Tony, who blinks up at her and mewls loudly and insistently, as if he's trying to tell her something he's obviously unable to articulate. She won't look inside his head—even now, she doubts he'd appreciate it even with good intentions—but she can feel the embarrassment and alarm rolling off him in waves. Tony stumbles on shaky kitten feet towards her, landing in her hands, and Wanda scoops him up, holding him up to eye level.

Tony mewls again, adamant, before squirming out of her hands and landing on her shirt, digging his tiny claws in. "Ouch—Tony—" He ignores her and scrambles up her shoulder, mewing in her ear before climbing on top of her head and settling there, purring.

" _Honestly_ ," Carol sighs, reaching out to pet him, and he laps at her bitten finger with a quiet meow. "You act like you're actually a cat."

"We need to get back to base," Sharon says, leading the way back to the jet they'd taken. "Wanda can do more there." Tony yowls at her, and she plucks him off Wanda's head. "And you, stop whining," Sharon chides, tucking Tony against her shoulder and cradling him close; almost immediately, he quiets, eyes squinting as he nudges into the touch, purring. Wanda can't help but giggle; he reminds her of the time her cousin brought her cat's kittens over during Khanuká when she was a little girl.

Tony snuffles at Sharon's hand, nuzzling his head up against it, and she rolls her eyes, stroking him behind the ears. "Yeah, yeah, we'll be back at the compound soon."

Unsurprisingly, Steve and Bucky immediately start coddling Tony's temporary form, and Tony ends up squirming out of their arms and leading them on a wild goose chase through the compound. Not that Sharon, Nat, Carol, or Wanda would know—the four are barely back at the compound for more than ten minutes before they collapse in piles on the couches there and fall asleep to the sounds of Tony yowling and the rest of the team shouting.

* * *

 **C. clipboard**

It's no secret that the Avengers, short as they've existed in these few months since the Battle of New York, have been approached by at least one lovestruck fan. While Steve refuses the admirers with polite smiles, Bruce stands there awkwardly and says nothing. After Nat broke the hand of a particularly creepy admirer, few do more than shoot her lovestruck glances, but Clint, who basks in the attention, has started carrying around a permanent marker to sign autographs. Thor breaks out into sonnets proclaiming his deep affection for his star-crossed lover. And Tony …

Tony is the only one who has no method of responding to his admirers, solely because the man is somehow completely oblivious to the fact that he has any in the first place, which is ironic because he has the most out of all of them. Despite his tendency to flirt and throw out sharp, witty comments, Tony has absolutely no idea that half the employees at SHIELD's compound often have their eyes firmly riveted to his form, nor does he realize that his techs at the SHIELD lab are as interested in 'accidentally' copping a feel as they are in the actual scientific work they do.

It's _infuriating_.

"I've been looking at your equipment, and I think I found a way to reduce the amount of heat it retains while maintaining the same levels of resistance to friction and durability," Tony tells him, waving his arms about in an absent-minded way, a manic glow in his eyes as he leads Steve and a handful of SHIELD technicians carrying clipboards through the main lab. It's adorable, and it doesn't go unnoticed by the new technicians, a number of whom are more focused on Tony than on the pair of gloves Tony's currently pushing into Steve's hands.

They're … nice. _Really_ nice. They look almost exactly like his old gloves, but they're thinner, more streamlined, and the grip pads aren't nearly worn through. "I wanted to stick with that old grandpa theme you got going on, but I designed some new grip pads and added a few reinforcements so you don't break your fingers. Not that you need to worry about that, but—"

"They're wonderful, Tony," Steve interrupts as he slips them on, flexing his fingers; they're almost as comfortable as his old gloves. "Thank you."

Tony shrugs, but Steve can see the ghost of a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "Just a long-needed upgrade, Cap. I've run most of the tests, but I can improve the fit quality and add some more reinforcements if you just let me—"

"I can run the tests," one of the technicians pipes up, looking excited. She looks like she's only just graduated from high school, an image reinforced by the way her lab coat flaps while she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet and readjusts her hijab. "They can be ready in about ten minutes, Mr. Stark, Sir!"

"Yeah, no." Tony raises an eyebrow. "Nice try, kid, but I know you've been running around here since three in the morning. You're gonna go get some lunch and take a nap. Doctor's orders. The rest of you can ready the tests."

"Would you like me to get you a sandwich?" One of the technicians asks. It's the one who keeps eyeing Tony's backside with a look in his eyes that sends a surge of bitter annoyance through Steve, who shoots a disapproving glare at the tech that goes unnoticed.

"Tony," Steve says pointedly, "You know, there are such things as sewing needles. I could adjust them myself."

Tony snorts. "And touch and possibly ruin my precious fabric? Next you're going to tell me to run the tests with a clipboard. And yes, if you could get some food for everybody, that'd be great."

"Nothing wrong with good old-fashioned stationery." Steve reaches out to pick a stray clipboard off a lab table, twirling the attached pen with his fingers. "Looks like it works just fine to me."

"And what kind of sandwich would you like, Mr. Stark?" The tech asks, smiling innocently, focused entirely on Tony, who wrinkles his nose.

"Honestly, Watkins, we've had this conversation before, it's just—"

"Just Tony," The tech interrupts, purring, and Steve's grip tightens on the clipboard, resisting the urge to deck the technician. "Anything you say, sir."

So what if Natasha laughs at him and tells him that "becoming Stark's knight in shining armor" was bound to happen? It's not as if Tony needs his protection. It's just that he happened to notice that a lot of people … well, _come on_ to Tony, and it happens to bother Steve enough that he makes an effort to keep people from bothering him.

Besides, a white knight wouldn't have any intentions or untoward thoughts about Tony, anyway, and, well, Steve … does. A white knight would be selfless and kind; they'd be doing it solely to protect Tony and his relationship with Pepper, and not use it as an excuse to spend more time with the genius. A white knight would not be inordinately envious and lash out at everyone who tries to lure Tony out of a serious relationship while simultaneously wishing Tony wasn't in a serious relationship.

And yes, fine, Natasha can tease him about it all she wants, but she should be impressed that Steve even admitted his feelings to himself. Tony is both painfully different and frighteningly similar to Steve, a mixture of opposites Steve still can't quite figure out. He isn't sure he ever will, anyway—everything Tony is makes Steve want to be careful, to hold back, because as easy as it had been to dislike Tony, it's infinitely easier to love him.

Steve is stubborn. This, he knows, is why it's taken him so long to admit he's falling fast and hard for Tony, a man he's known for little more than three months. He tells himself it's because he's not ready to move on, not yet. Bucky was safety, a companionable silence, an understanding so deep no words needed to be spoken. But Tony is different, witty and caring and self-deprecating under all the false bravado, a bright, intense spark of life and light. He is infuriating, the kind of man who makes ridiculous jokes at inappropriate times and is stubborn and contrary for no other reason than he can be and nearly kills himself trying to fix the mistakes he makes, and Steve has never wanted anyone quite so badly. Tony is … _irresistible_.

If Bucky were here, he'd shake his head at Steve. "What happened to the kid who didn't know how to back out of a fight?", he'd ask.

Except Bucky's not here, and Steve shuts down that train of thought, because Bucky would have loved Tony, too, and Steve can't bear to think about him right now, especially when he has more pressing matters. Like the fact that this tech is getting a little too handsy, and Steve's learning the hard way that Tony isn't exactly adept at taking a hint if they're dropped with any amount of subtlety, especially when he's focused on a project like he is now.

"You know …" The tech drawls, settling an arm around Tony's shoulder. "There's a lot of different kinds of sandwiches in the cafeteria. I don't want to get you just any sandwich."

"Hm?" Tony asks, distracted, eyes fixed on a screen. "Yeah, sure."

"A ham sandwich sounds pretty swell," Steve says loudly.

The tech ignores him. "I can give you anything you want. We've got grilled cheese, bacon, turkey … sausage."

The clipboard snaps into six satisfying pieces in Steve's hands, along with the ballpoint pen, spilling dark ink that bleeds into Steve's skin. Tony and the tech jump at the noise, the tech's arm retracting from Tony's shoulders.

"Shit, Steve!" Tony hurries to his side, momentarily distracted. "Dammit. Get me a washcloth or something, would you, kid?" he directs at the tech, eyes fixed on the inky mess dripping steadily from Steve's hands.

The tech narrows his eyes at Steve, who glares back with all the cold, bitter ferocity he can manage in one look; the man quails, mumbling something about paper towels as he scurries from the room, much to Steve's satisfaction.

"Guess I need to start making reinforced clipboards, too," Tony quips, but there's no anger in his voice, only dry amusement, and Steve ducks his head, smiling.

* * *

 **D. donuts**

Tony's on a post-mission donut run with Bucky and Steve's just coming out of the shower when Scott pulls out a DVD and wiggles it around at the others with a filthy grin.

"You," he starts, "would not believe what I found yesterday."

"What? More porn?" Carol shoots back, and Scott's smirk widens.

"Oh, it's porn," Scott purrs, and the rest of the team groans. "But not just any porn. It's explicit content featuring a certain genius."

Steve freezes where he stands, just out of view of the island in the kitchen the team's crowded around. "I think I'd remember if I starred in a porn film," Bruce says dryly.

"I think Tony would remember, too," Scott crows. "Who wants to watch it?"

"What—how the hell did you even get a copy?" Rhodey demands, trying to snatch the DVD from Scott's hand. "I thought we got rid of all the DVDs after they showed it on the news!"

"You realize you're suggesting we watch an explicitly sexual film about one of our team members," Sam says, unimpressed. "You're lucky Cap and Sarge aren't around, or they'd rip your throat out."

"Aw, come on." Scott tosses it on the table. "Don't tell me you don't want to watch—"

"Stark Naked: The XXXtra-Large Edition—wait, this is the one with him and the 'board members'!" Clint snorts. "Is that it? I found this video years ago. It's not even anything special."

"It really isn't," Nat adds, and shrugs when the others turn to stare at her, incredulous. "What? It's in his SHIELD file. He's got three others and this one is the most lacking."

Steve knows Tony did a lot of things in his youth, many of them somewhat questionable, but he'd never bothered to consider that Tony would do _that_ sort of thing, let alone that he'd get away with doing it more than once. The thought of watching Tony fuck other people—other people _who are neither he nor Bucky_ —makes Steve feel a strange mixture of irrational, possessive jealousy and ravenous, predatory curiosity, leaving him with the conflicting desire to both burn Scott's DVD and steal it for himself.

"Besides, the one with the girls is better," Clint's saying, and Nat hums in agreement. "Acting quality is higher."

"Isn't that the one with the pegging?" Carol asks. "That's the one they showed on the news, right?"

"Is this not a breach of privacy?" Wanda mumbles. "I do not feel comfortable talking about this."

"I'm with Wanda." Sharon slings an arm around Wanda's shoulder. "Donuts are better than porn, anyway."

"But my compatriots, is this not a glorious chance to—"

Sam groans. "For the last time, Thor, I don't care what you did back in Asgard or how good it was for the _esprit de corps_ , we are not having a team orgy."

"I am not going to watch my best friend get plowed in the ass _again_ ," Rhodey says firmly, glowering at Scott. "This conversation is over."

"But—"

There's the sound of the elevator chiming, and then all talk of Tony's porno is forgotten as Bucky and Tony step out with their arms swamped with donut boxes.

No one notices that the DVD conveniently disappears into Steve's back pocket, and if they did, no one remembers that, either.

* * *

The acting really _is_ horrible, as Steve and Bucky discover that night while Tony's down in his lab, seating themselves on the couch in their room and twiddling their thumbs, caught in a mixture of guilt and fascination. The lines are cheesy, the plot makes little sense, and neither super-soldier can help but think that the other male actors aren't very good looking. Tony, however—

"Not so cocky now, are you?" One of the actors, a blond man with long hair, growls as he thrusts his hips up, and Tony lets out a pathetic whine that Steve and Bucky _know_ is real because Tony sounds like that in bed, all sweet and needy and eager to please.

He's on his knees, rolling down against the blond man beneath him, who stage-whispers filth in his ears as he thrusts up into Tony. In front of him, a dark-haired man with his hair cropped short slams into his mouth, while two others flanking Tony have his hands wrapped around their cocks. The fifth and last man is behind him, working his fingers steadily into Tony's ass alongside the other man's cock.

Bucky makes a strangled noise, grabbing Steve's arm to steady himself. "Jesus," Steve breathes, eyes fixed on the screen. On the screen, Tony makes a sharp, high-pitched noise with each thrust from the man with the long blond hair, whimpering pathetically each time the man behind him works in another finger. By the time he's four fingers in, Tony's legs are shaking badly and the two men flanking him have to coax him to stop jerking them off so he can at least prop himself up with his hands.

"Is he—?" Bucky demands, eyes fixated on Tony, whose whines grow increasingly needy as the man with the fingers closes in and—

Steve lets out a choked groan as the second man presses in alongside the first; Tony mewls, sweet and desperate, trembling as he's stretched full and taut, and the man murmurs a wordless comfort, stroking Tony's side as he eases in.

Steve's hard, painfully so, and a glance at Bucky tells Steve he's in the same boat. Then Tony makes a sobbing, begging noise, and the two find their attention glued to the screen as the actors stop moving and Tony starts fucking himself back onto the two cocks and forward to swallow the actor in front of him down to the root with a hungry whimper.

When Tony comes up to bed, he finds his Brooklyn boys rock-hard and staring blankly at the television screen as it loops through the menu sequence; with a snort and a shake of his head, he coaxes his boys into bed, full of promises that yes, they can try that too.

He almost throws the DVD in the trash, but a single glance at their stunned expressions convinces him to keep it. Just in case.

* * *

 **E. eight**

There are exactly seven times that T'Challa regrets visiting the Avengers the most.

(Admittedly, the King of Wakanda has only visited the superheroes seven times, but T'Challa has hope for the future.)

The first time was shortly after the mess with the monster Thanos to discuss rebuilding and providing aid to those in need, a meeting that resulted in far too much arguing and far too little compromising. The conference would have been a large enough fiasco, what with the utter lack of cooperative behavior, but its untimely interruption by an alien invasion in Seoul worsened matters and left many issues unresolved.

The second time was unfavorable as well, but that had less to do with childish arguing and more to do with the fact that he'd arrived in the middle of a different sort of war, one that involved paint balls, black bean burgers, obnoxious ringtones, and stray red socks in white wash loads. According to a very upset Mr. Lang, it had begun because " _someone_ stole Henry and won't give them back", although who Henry was and why they'd been taken, T'Challa never found out. He did learn, however, that the AI, FRIDAY, was entirely capable of becoming incredibly stressed, and that Dr. Banner had far better aim than he let on.

The third, fourth, and fifth time, all of which had been nothing more than pleasure visits, all left T'Challa wondering if something about the existence of superheroes automatically prompts supervillains to rise in direct conflict against them. He also wonders if perhaps the Avengers should choose a better living place rather than making their home in such a densely-populated area. The visits had been opportunities of freedom to catch up with new friends, after all; T'Challa really hadn't planned on helping them fend off a rather disgusting infestation of giant cockroaches the size of cars in Las Vegas, capture several large psychic cats loose in Saigon, and defend southeastern Tokyo against a highly disgruntled plant species.

The sixth time was when he came to the Tower to convene with Mr. Stark about economic matters. He'd planned on a short, to-the-point conversation and had intended to greet all his friends, perhaps even stay for a coffee. Upon arriving, however, he'd found himself in the midst of a very nude Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, a very uncomfortable Mr. Wilson and Mr. Stark, and a very angry archer whose name still escapes him. After, he'd had to walk back through a shouting match, one of whom was bellowing something about team morale. While T'Challa does appreciate beauty in its many forms, squeezing between a handful of large, muscular, and nude men was not something he'd wanted to witness.

The seventh time, he'd at least had the fortune of meeting the lovely Carol Danvers, who was quite understanding when he'd admitted his reluctance in returning to the tower for an eighth time. Admittedly, he'd also met her while she was clothed in nothing more than a towel and was carrying a mysterious black cat she'd told him was Mr. Stark, but she'd been very polite.

If the Wakandian king is perfectly honest with himself, he's a bit concerned about what his eighth visit will be like. Still, the Avengers have long been close friends of his; surely, this next visit will be better.

* * *

 **F. flimsy**

 _"Steve,"_ Tony pants, his voice catching and his legs trembling; his skin-tight flight suit is unzipped at the back and pulled from his shoulders, giving Steve just enough room to bury his face, probing lightly before pulling back to breath hot puffs of air against his twitching hole.

As always, the post-mission debrief is set an hour or so after the Avengers return to the compound, enough time to clean up, get checked over, and prep for the meeting. As Steve is rarely severely injured and is quick to dress out, he likes to spend his time doing things like pinning Tony to the wall in a secluded corner of the compound and "helping him undress".

Steve's kneeling, hands unyielding as they spread Tony's cheeks, forcing him to take the slow laps of Steve's tongue against his hole, and Tony leans heavily against the wall for support, scrabbling at the walls as he whimpers. "Come _on,"_ Tony gasps, trying to push back against him, and Steve hums and tightens his grip, keeping him in place. "Stop teasing, I—ah—need you in me, I need—"

Steve tightens his grip, nearly bruising, and thrusts his tongue hard, firm and wet and hot; Tony's hand's fly back to scrabble at Steve as he chokes, fisting white-knuckled hands in Steve's hair. "Hghh—Ste—"

Tony gasps for air as Steve pushes his tongue into his clenching hole, slick and pervasive, before he stills, letting Tony struggle and sob. He's _perfect_ like this, flushed and panting and writhing against Steve, eyes dilated and glassy, and it's far from enough for Steve, but Tony's begging now, pleading, and so Steve _takes_.

He shoves in deep, stretching Tony's trembling rim around his tongue, and sucks hard against his pucker, reveling in Tony's high-pitched wail.

* * *

 **G. good**

Tony loves his Brooklyn boys, he really does. And it's because he loves them that he's so nervous about Rhodey and Pepper, who, thanks to the interference of the media (fuck you very much, Fox News) learn about his relationship not from Tony himself, but from watching the evening news.

He knows Rhodey's been hard on the two super-soldiers since the mess with the Accords, especially Bucky, while Pepper was angrier at Steve; with the resources, skills, and outright fury of the two combined, Tony had spent nearly a month trying to convince the two not to rain hell on Steve and Bucky when they moved into the tower.

As it happens, the story has been playing for less than an hour on three different major news stations when his best friends storm into the tower with fire in their eyes and fury radiating off them in palpable waves. Really, no one could blame Tony for scrambling in front of his Brooklyn boys, throwing up placating hands.

"I know I should have told you both right away and I'm really really sorry—"

"Tones," Rhodey says, dangerously soft, "I'm not mad at you, and neither is Pepper."

"No," Pepper says, ice creeping into the pleasantness in her tone, "we're just here murder a few super-soldiers."

Tony makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, whacking at Steve and Bucky as they try to squeeze in front of him in a ridiculous attempt at protection, because it's not _Tony_ who needs protecting. "Pepper, Rhodey, my true loves of my life forever and always for all eternity _if you love me_ —"

"Tony," Pepper tells him, eyes fixed on a wary Steve, "it's because we love you that we have to do this."

"Pepper, I love them!" Tony yelps, desperately trying to shove Bucky behind him.

"And we love Tony," Steve says resolutely, and Tony curses, because neither of his boys should be talking right now, they should be running for their lives and hoping they get at least twenty-four hours before they get taken out. "I know I speak for both Bucky and myself when I say we would do _anything_ for him."

"Funny," Rhodey says pleasantly, advancing on Bucky, who crosses his arms, glaring resolutely and refusing to budge even as Tony shoves at his shoulder. "Because I seem to remember you putting your shield into my best friend's chest and leaving him bleeding in an abandoned outpost."

Steve and Bucky flinch audibly, expressions faltering with guilt, and Tony winces. "Rhodey—"

"Were you?" Pepper remarks, "Because I was thinking about the _non-apology_ Tony got. In a _letter_."

 _Someone kill me now_ , Tony thinks miserably, watching as his Brooklyn boys wilt with shame, hunching over like kicked puppies. "Come on, Pepper, that's not fair—"

"Not even in person," Rhodey agrees. "Just a load of bullshit telling Tones, 'hey, sorry not sorry, I started an international crisis, broke your heart _and_ your bones, and turned the rest of the team against you, all for my brainwashed boyfriend that murdered your parents.' Because Tony can't have secrets, but _you_ can."

"It's not like I didn't—"

"You're right." Steve looks Pepper straight in the eye. "I hurt Tony something awful. I was a shit captain and an awful friend. Nothing I can ever say or do will ever make up for what I did to Tony. That's something I'm going to have to carry for the rest of my life. And I swear, I will do it." He turns to Tony then, taking his hands, eyes burning. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to deserve Tony, because he's worth it."

"But neither me or Stevie is gonna back off," Bucky promises, wrapping a protective arm around Tony's waist. "If you want us gone, you're gonna have to kill us. As long as Tony wants us around, we'll be here for him."

"Always," Steve murmurs, eyes shining. "For _Tony_."

"For Tony," Bucky agrees, tone softening as he looks at Tony, kissing the crown of his head.

Pepper's gaze flicks to Tony, and he steps forward hurriedly. "Look, I know neither of you are happy about this, but I—I love them." His voice shakes. "You're not around to see it, but they're _good_. They're so good, Rhodey, they keep me company and I'm not lonely anymore and Steve carries me to bed and Bucky calls me kitten and I don't think he knows I'm fluent in like twelve different languages including Russian but I love him anyways—"

"Wait. You speak Russian?" Bucky demands.

"—and Steve always makes me wear his grandpa sweaters when I'm cold and they're really warm and they smell good even if they're hideous as fuck and Bucky calms me down when I have nightmares and—"

Rhodey grasps his shoulder with a sigh, and Tony looks at him, pleading. "And I _love_ them," he whispers.

"I know, Tony," Pepper tells him, managing a pained smile. "I don't think they deserve it—"

"And they never will," Rhodey finishes, "but they make you happy, and I'm not going to take that away from you. Okay, Tones?"

Tony—does not _sniffle_ , he is an adult and not an angst-ridden lovestruck teenager—and lets Pepper pull him into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. "You're such a doof," she teases, then levels Steve and Bucky with a smile so terrifyingly cold that Tony can hear them shift with discomfort.

"Sergeant. Captain. Be good to Tony."

"Always," Steve vows, gazing at Tony with shining eyes.

"… Wait! So you knew the whole time I was blabbin' to Nat about wantin' to eat your ass?" Bucky blurts, and everyone freezes. Tony knows he's not exactly adept at reading other people, but even he can see the words _I have made a grave error_ plastered across Bucky's face.

As it happens, this will be the night the team discovers that the only ones strong enough to pry an angry Rhodey off a very-battered Steve are Vision and Thor, and that they should have recruited Pepper into the Avengers Initiative for her stunning and terrifying ability to take down an ex-assassin equipped with nothing more than a pair of broken heels and a hair tie.

* * *

 **H. hand**

In retrospect, reintroducing Bucky as one of the new team members to the general public while his arm was malfunctioning was perhaps not one of the team's better ideas.

Then again, it was probably a worse idea to invite Tony's worst ex to the gala less than a week after the tabloids had started printing about Tony supposedly ruining Steve's epic romance with Bucky Barnes by seducing them with his playboy charms.

To be fair, none of it is true—while certainly Tony is incredibly attractive in a myriad of ways, they're not together. _Not yet_ , Steve thinks with determination. Besides, they hadn't exactly had high hopes in the first place—with too many of their more socially inclined Avengers on call elsewhere, the entire situation spelled a recipe for disaster anyway. Bruce is, of course, exempt from attending such events, and Thor is banned after the fiasco two months ago with the bilgesnipe and the fur underwear. Clint and Scott would have been banned as well, but Colonel Rhodes is on call protecting the president for the duration of his stay in France, Carol's on a solo mission, T'Challa is busy running Wakanda, and Vision freaks out the guests, so the two are allowed to attend, albeit amidst threats of destroyed bows and ant traps.

Still, Steve thinks the blame should lie entirely on Tiberius Stone.

He doesn't know the whole story, but according to Rhodey, Stone is a sizeable chunk of the reason Tony has such little faith in himself to be in a successful relationship. He'd been manipulative and toxic, gaslighting Tony into losing all confidence in long-term, steady relationships. "He's the reason Tony thinks he'll never find someone to stay with him forever," Rhodey told him, eyes dark with an old, bitter fury.

Steve has barely known Tiberius Stone for more than a few hours and he already hates the man.

* * *

If anyone on the team who's read Tony's SHIELD file had been given any say in the invitation process, Tiberius Stone would not have made the guest list.

Unfortunately, they're not the ones running the gala—SHIELD is, and if they want to maintain a good public image as well as keep a cautious eye on any potential threats, they have to play nice with the head of the fourth most influential weapons producer in Europe, even if he is a high-hat big cheese that makes Steve's skin crawl with anger and disgust.

Luckily, this evening, Tony's been assigned what Clint deems "old lady duty" with Natasha, set to charm and flirt and sweet-talk the nice elderly women who come to their galas, while Scott and Clint have orders to not touch anything and act like statues. Sharon, Wanda, and Sam are unfortunately on "irritating middle-aged white men duty", which probably means someone's going to get punched for saying something bigoted, but at this point, Steve doubts he could even bring himself to reprimand his teammates for it.

Steve and Rhodey have been tasked with introducing Bucky, which would have gone just fine, aside from the fact that Steve's fairly sure Bucky's malfunctioning arm is getting worse as the night progresses. Still, despite the fact that he keeps his metal arm awkwardly stiff at his side, his smile is genuine, and it only grows with the positive attention he's been receiving.

It's not until Rhodey stiffens and snarls under his breath that the night _really_ starts going downhill.

"If it isn't good old Jim," someone says, and the three turn to see a tall man in an elegant grey suit with dark hair, square-framed glasses, and an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. Steve immediately hates him.

"Stone," Rhodey says coolly as Stone holds out his hand, crossing his arms, and Stone sighs, shaking his head.

"Now, really, Jim. I know we've had some issues in the past, but can't we put it behind us? Bury the hatchet?"

"I'd appreciate," Rhodey says, voice icy, "if you would refer to me as Colonel Rhodes."

Stone shrugs, nonchalant, and turns his gaze to Steve and Bucky; for a moment, Steve can see bitter dislike flash across his eyes, and then it's gone, replaced with a stage-worthy, toothy smile. "You must be the good Captain Rogers. It's an honor to meet you."

"Mr. Stone," Steve says politely, taking his hand and shaking it; unable to resist, he squeezes his hand a little too hard, quietly relishing in Stone's wince. "A pleasure, sir."

"Please." Stone waves his hand. "Call me Ty." He turns to Bucky, eyes glittering. "So this is the famous Sergeant Barnes. I must say, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Thank you," Bucky says, face open with blunt honesty. "I've been looking forward to tonight for a real long time."

"As you should," Stone tells him, eyes glinting. "Time to show these people what you're made of, right? Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Steve's hands tighten into fists. Bucky doesn't know Tiberius Stone, nor does he know anything about Tony's history with the man; Steve wants to drag him away and tell him everything, but it's not Steve's place to share Tony's information with Bucky, no matter how much he wants to, so he settles for shifting into a slightly more protective stance behind him.

"Speaking of showing people what you're made of …" Stone casts his gaze around the ballroom, searching. "You wouldn't happen to know where Tony is, would you? I'd love to catch up with him."

"He's busy," Steve says, forcing his voice to remain steady and calm.

"Is that so?" Stone's eyes glitter as he catches sight of Tony, who's chattering animatedly with an elderly woman wearing a red feathered hat. "Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I bothered him a bit." He turns back, meeting Steve's eyes with a tart smile, before shooting an over-indulgent one at Bucky. "If you'll excuse me."

"Oh, of course," Bucky tells him brightly, holding out his hand.

It happens in an instant.

One moment, Bucky's shaking his hand, and the next, the crowd is murmuring in shock, backing away from one very angry, very loud Stone and a very horrified Bucky.

"Fuck—I am so sorry!" Bucky stammers, frantic, trying to pry the fingers of his hand off Stone's with his free hand. The crowd begins to murmur as the team immediately flocks to the two, Clint and Scott attempting to subdue the them while Sam and Sharon poke and prod at Bucky's arm; Nat and Wanda hurry off to usher the guests from the ballroom, Wanda clearly harried and Nat's expression utterly neutral.

Stone's screams only grow louder and angrier as he tries and fails to rip himself from Bucky's grip. "Get your fucking hands off me, you goddamn _freak_!" he screeches; Bucky, with all his stature and hardened appearance, looks close to tears, tugging at his metal hand in vain.

"What the fuck is going on?" Tony demands as he hurries over, Steve on his heels. "Ty, what the hell did you do to my teammate?"

"The mechanisms in his fingers locked up," Sharon clips, running her fingers over Bucky's. "I think we need to reset the gears."

"I'm gonna fucking sue all of you!" Stone shrieks, flailing about and smacking an irate Clint in the face. "When I'm through with you, the Avengers won't have a goddamn penny!"

"Great, wonderful, let's do it. Anyone know how?" Sam demands, and they stare at each other for a moment; Scott shrugs, Sharon bites her lip, Clint curses, and Sam sighs. "Tony?"

"I got it, someone get me some tweezers or something!" Tony snaps, wrestling to remove part of the arm's plating.

"Thank you so much for coming, Catherine," Nat says, taking a lady's hands in hers.

"Yes? I—but—" The lady bites her lip, casting a glance at the crowd of superheroes. "Will everything be okay?"

Stone writhes, kicking, and Sharon hisses in pain, shooting the man a nasty look and rubbing her calf ruefully. "I will strip you of everything you own!"

"Of course," Nat says smoothly.

"Stop squirming," Clint snaps, arms wrapped around Stone's chest. "Tony, can you speed things up?"

"I could get you free if you _stopped moving_ , Ty!" Tony snarls.

"Especially you," Stone growls, sneering at Bucky, who's half trying to stop his arm from trembling and half wiping messily at his face. "I will fucking destroy you, do you hear? I'm gonna send you to the worst fucking jail on the planet! I'm gonna lock you up for life, you insane freak! You hear? You're going to rot in a cell full of shit for the rest of your—"

Tony pulls something free with a shout and Bucky releases Stone with a gasp just as Nat strides over to Stone and knocks him out with a deft hand.

* * *

 **I. inconceivable**

While Bucky's favorite movie is Mean Girls, Steve loves The Princess Bride. It's not uncommon for the two super-soldiers to argue and bicker over the two movies until Tony sticks in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, after which his Brooklyn boys will sit and pout while Tony enjoys his movie.

* * *

 **J. jewelry**

Sappy as his Brooklyn boys are, it's still a surprise when Bucky and Steve present Tony with jewelry for the first time.

It's a simple aquamarine bracelet with leather cording, and Bucky slips it on his wrist with ease, lifting Tony's hand to press a kiss to his pulse point. "It caught my eye on my last mission. I thought it'd look pretty on you."

The two super-soldiers have their own enormous jewelry collections, nearly all gifts to each other, though they rarely wear more than a few key pieces; Bucky owns an antique gold locket Steve says once belonged to his mother, and Steve wears a simple silver ring Bucky had given him before the war as a promise to return.

Tony's never been one much for jewelry—it gets in the way of his engineering and he's too afraid he'll lose anything he owns— but it seems that the two are determined to create a collection for Tony of equal size to their own, and admittedly, he does look good in them. Besides, wearing the things they give him always leaves a nice warm feeling in his stomach and is an extra comfort when he's away on a business trip or one or both of his boys goes on a mission.

It's so comforting, in fact, that on particularly long bouts of separation, Tony will haul his jewelry box with him and stick every last piece he can fit on his body and mope in bed with the enormous carnival bears his Brooklyn boys had won for him. Still, he rarely wears more than their dog tags, tucking them into his shirts every day and finding peace in the way they bounce against his sternum.

Much as Tony enjoys wearing his jewelry, however, Steve and Bucky enjoy it even more. Especially when he wears their dog tags, which is why the two take extra care to make sure he wears them while they fuck him.

"Look at you," Steve murmurs in his ear, voice strained as he thrusts up, and Tony gives a trembling sob, grasping weakly at Bucky's forearm, dog tags bouncing on his chest. "You're so beautiful, Tony."

"Full," Tony chokes out, toes curling as Bucky rolls his hips up, running a soothing hand up and down Tony's thigh. God, he's so _full_ , stretched and squeezing around them both, and maybe they've worked up to this for weeks, but nothing could have prepared Tony for how mind-blowing it feels to be so _stuffed_ , impaled on both their cocks, and it feels like he was _made_ for this. "Good, ah, nngh—d-don't stop, please, plea—"

Tony gasps as the two quicken their thrusts, switching their pace so that as Steve pulls out, Bucky thrusts in. It's good, it's so good and Tony can't breathe, he can't _think_.

Somewhere, deep in the fuzzed-out corners of his mind, it occurs to Tony that his Brooklyn boys have ruined him.

"If you're still coherent, we're not doing it right, baby doll," Tony thinks he hears Bucky say roughly, and Steve chuckles, rumbling low in his chest.

It's … mind shattering, it's obscene and relentless, the way they're thrusting counterpoint into him, an incessant drag that tugs beautifully at his stretched rim, and it's so good, _good_ , feels incredible and Tony doesn't know anything else. He manages to gather his breath, chest heaving as he gazes at Bucky, unable to say anything, remember anything, not even his goddamn name, he—

Bucky smirks at him, and the two abruptly change their pace, slamming up into Tony's sloppy, trembling hole in tandem.

Tony lets out a startled, shaky scream, vision whiting out as he comes, lost in uncontrollable, overwhelming sensation, blood thundering in his ears. Vaguely, he can feel the sensation of something bumping against his chest—the dog tags—before Bucky wraps a hand around his cock, and two bury themselves inside him with shaking moans, big and thick and hot and spurting. Tony blacks out at the feeling of come splattering inside him, leaving him limp and sated and _full_.

* * *

 **K. котенок**

Bucky almost always calls Steve 'Stevie' and 'punk', pet names so old that neither can remember when he first started using them. They fall off his tongue with a natural, easy softness, a sweet contrast to the rough hair-ruffles and ribbing that often accompanies them.

When he's angry or annoyed, Steve is always 'Cap' or 'Rogers', but mostly, Tony calls Steve by name, and he says Steve's name like a caress, soft and sweet and full of emotion. Tony has a nickname for everyone, including him, but Tony almost always calls him by name instead, and Steve's never quite appreciated the sound of his name until he heard the way Tony said it.

Bucky is always his nickname or 'Buck' to Steve, so familiar the name fits in his mouth like it belongs there (because it does.) It's what he's grown up with, what he's always remembered, so ever-present it's a comfort to Steve just to say Bucky's name. Bucky feels like _home_.

To Tony, Bucky is 'Robocop' and 'Barnes' and 'Bucky', but mostly, he's 'James'. Bucky's never liked his name, had once even grown to hate it when it became a symbol of his time with HYDRA, but Tony—Tony says it like a prayer, an achingly soft press of lips to skin. Tony makes Bucky love his given name, not for what it once meant, but for what it has become.

Sometimes, Steve will call Tony 'Shellhead', usually a wry response to Tony's 'Cap' or even rarer 'Capsicle', but he prefers to call Tony by name, relishing the way it warms his mouth and curls around his tongue. 'Tony' feels like a kiss and is even better when accompanied by a real one. Rain or shine, angry or numbingly sad or blissfully happy, Steve can't help but love Tony's name and the way it sounds before he kisses him.

Bucky loves Tony's name, too, but Tony is also his 'Tin Can' and his 'Tones', his 'sweetheart' and 'baby doll' and 'dollface' and 'котенок', and he tosses these out with a casual grace and a gentle fondness he shows with no one else. When asked why he never sticks with just one, Bucky will smile and pull Tony close, claiming it's because "he means all that an' more to me", and that will be the end of the story.

* * *

 **L. lavish**

Thor's floor mirrors his quarters in Asgard, the lavish style and architecture borne not out of Tony's limited knowledge of the alien planet, but out of magical alterations. None of the Avengers fully comprehend Thor's inability to utilize magic in such an aesthetic way, and so none question why there is a surprising amount of green and gold despite Thor's favorite hues being red and silver.

While Tony's floor was once stylish and modern, its furniture now ranges from sleek and contemporary to traditional and old-fashioned to accommodate the two super-soldiers currently living in it with him. The triad's enormous bed, while still covered in blankets and pillows for him to nest in, is now also decorated with patchwork quilts and crocheted doilies; it's also seeing more use now than it ever has since the tower's creation.

Bucky and Steve love it—it feels like the perfect mixture of the three of them, together in one sanctuary.

Despite the fact that she rarely uses it anymore, Carol's bedroom is always a little messy, mostly from her many books, magazines, and newspaper articles. She'd rejected the idea of living on her own floor, preferring to live in a single bedroom, which she rarely uses anymore anyways, as she spends far more time in the common area.

Wanda's floor is far more personalized, considering how much more time she spends in it; there are posters all over her walls, usually of her favorite Sokovian bands and sports teams, as well as simple, colorful paintings she wheedles out of Steve. Her furniture is largely dwarfed by countless stuffed animals, some of which she's "borrowed" from Scott, and covered in blankets and pillows.

Rhodey doesn't have eccentric or luxurious tastes, instead preferring something homier and simple; his floor is closest to Tony's, making it easier for the two best friends to move back and forth between the space. They don't say it, but they both secretly love the other's space more, not for what it looks like, but because the other is in it. (It's fine, though; it doesn't need to be said anyway.)

Clint's room is fairly Spartan, save for his closet, which is the second-largest in the entire building and is made up mostly of costumes for cosplay purposes. When not on the roof, in the vents, or digging through the kitchen looking for food Sam or Bucky made, he can be found in his closet.

Natasha's floor is full of pastel colors and soft things, including but not limited to several thick blankets, large, fluffy pillows, and all of her knitting things. It's cozy and warm there, an inner sanctum she retreats to often when she needs alone time, though she often keeps her door open for others to enter.

Scott's floor is even fluffier, partially because it's filled with stuffed animals and he likes their company, and partially because he keeps it that way for when his daughter visits. His floor is made especially to accommodate his daughter's presence, including a separate bed and an excess of chocolate milk in the refrigerator and kid's movies in his collection.

Vision has a room, but he rarely uses it; he never sleeps and he's not much one for personal space. Instead, he stocks it full of card and board games and leaves it open for the rest of the team to dig through.

Sharon loves Wanda's and Natasha's floors and spends more time on their floors than she does on her own. This means her floor is often cold, empty, and rather unpersonalized, save for the knitted and quilted piles of blankets and pillows she steals from Nat's room that are piled on her bed and the collection of Sokovian boy band music she's liberated from Wanda's collection.

Sam's floor is more of a library than a room; it's filled wall-to-wall with books of all sorts, and is stocked with tea, blankets, pillows, and comfortable sofas and chairs. There's usually someone on Sam's floor digging through his books and reading, and he likes it that way, so he keeps his door open for all to enter.

* * *

 **M. mariokart**

It starts with a Mariokart tournament and ends with Sharon on a wild goose chase around the tower, Clint in a dumpster, Tony sobbing into Nat's shoulder while Carol yells at Thor, Steve in a tree, Bucky with a bloody nose, Sam and Rhodey high, Bruce naked on the roof, Vision completely naked in Scott's bed, Scott digging through the trash mumbling about Henry, and Wanda burning all of her undergarments.

The team comes to the unanimous decision to never speak of the horrible three-day incident ever again.

* * *

 **N. nocturnal**

Avengers Tower is full of sleepless superheroes.

As a scientist, Bruce is used to living with sleepless nights and long projects, losing track of hours and even days. After the Hulk, the Big Guy that lurks beneath his skin broils and threatens to come out when the lack of sleep leaves him irritated, so he tries to sleep at normal hours. It's easiest when he doesn't have unfinished projects that require his attention, however, so Tony comes in to help him finish them more quickly, and he listens as Tony chatters incessantly and finds a quiet peace in the constant noise.

Natasha will join the two scientists in Bruce's lab armed with her knitting needles and her latest project, the three friends sharing in the companionable atmosphere while Natasha knits. When the flashes of the Red Room and the worst battles are too much to take, she curls up on her bed, clutching Clint's hand like a lifeline as Sharon regales her with tales full of warriors and dragons and faeries that grow wilder with each rendition.

Sometimes, when Clint wakes and Nat isn't there, he comes to join her in Bruce's lab, resting his head in Nat's lap; other times, he'll sneak through the air vents and watch his friends in their various states of wake and sleep, letting his breathing calm with the knowledge that they are safe. When that's not enough, he climbs to the highest part of the tower and sits there until someone lures him back down with the promise of food and hugs.

Vision doesn't sleep because he doesn't have to, instead roaming the tower ceaselessly. Often, late at night and early in the morning, he can be found on the helipad, eyes glowing with a quiet fascination as he looks out into the city and the world beyond. Other times, he floats through the floors and walls, accidentally spooking everyone he comes across, politely asking if anyone would enjoy a nice game of chess.

Despite his lack of experience in the game, Thor always agrees to play chess with Vision, letting the sentient android teach him the rules of the game and guide him through it. Thor may tend to be more well-rested than the rest of the team, but there are times when he finds himself drifting through old memories, wistful and often sad. Most often, he remembers quiet days in Vanaheim, hunting in the solitude of Jotunheim's tundra, and carrying his brother to bed after finding him asleep at one of his books.

After particularly bad nightmares, ones he needs Steve holding him and Tony singing to him to calm down from, Bucky will find it impossible to sleep the following day, terrified of what he'll find when he closes his eyes. When that happens, he busies himself in the kitchen, silently making desserts with red eyes until Sam throws on his apron and tosses a quip at him that never fails to make Bucky come back to himself.

Sharon's had a difficult time sleeping for years, and even if she copes better than the rest, life as a superhero is no less difficult, especially when it messes with her sleep schedule and leaves her lying awake in her bed for hours, bone-tired but unable to find any rest. She finds sleep after telling Natasha stories for hours or snuggling next to Wanda in her bed, nabbing one of her books and reading silently with a small book light, backs pressed together.

Tony's always had trouble keeping calm, and so fills the space with work and projects and experiments. He's made thousands of new arrows, updated the Widow bites and the Falcon wings, altered and built and rebuilt his suits countless times, unable to make himself stop, even when his hands won't stop shaking and he gets so frustrated he breaks down. It takes others, usually Rhodey or Pepper, to convince him to take his beta blockers with leftovers and some water, and one of his Brooklyn boys to coax and carry him up to bed.

Life as a soldier is different from being a superhero in countless ways, but unlike his years in the military, there's no training, no guidebook that could have helped Rhodey to prepare for the strangeness that is being an Avenger and a superhero. He still finds enough rest at night, but sleeping alone isn't always enough, and so he gravitates to the couch where someone else sleeps and relaxes with the slow rise and fall of their chest, drifting off to even breathing.

Carol sleeps more soundly than the rest, but she finds it strange sleeping while the rest of her team is awake, and it bothers her enough that she seeks the nearest ones out and cajoles them into bed before she finds rest herself. When she joined the team, Tony had offered Carol her own floor, but she'd refused and chose a medium-sized room on the main floor instead; now, more often than not, she finds herself falling asleep on the couch in the common room, exhausted from trying to bring rest to her friends.

Sam finds his solace at the VA office, but it's not always enough to find peace during the daytime and escape any hard thoughts that haunt him during the night. He tells himself it's a process, and it _is_ , if slow and painful, but reminding himself isn't always enough. He joins Bucky in the kitchen, and finds solace arguing with him on spices and measurements, until they both fall asleep on the counter and wake up to burnt, ruined food.

Before the serum, Steve had difficulties with sleep, either unable to close his eyes or struggling to get out of bed; after, he'd hoped it would change, but the serum doesn't fix everything and his anti-depressants aren't always enough. When even Tony and Bucky can't push away the fog and bring a smile to his face, they'll drag out his record player and he'll lay in bed for hours listening, breathing in time with the music with tears running down his cheeks until he falls asleep in their arms.

As time goes by, Wanda's nightmares dwindle, but sometimes, she wakes up screaming for Pietro, wilting when she realizes he's not there to comfort her and lull her back to sleep. She doesn't cry so much anymore, though, not when Sharon starts taking her out to the common room to watch movies.

It's good like that, eating popcorn at one in the morning, and even better when, slowly but surely, everyone comes to join them. Natasha will commandeer the armchair and Clint will whine about it, and Sam will take a seat and continuously tell Scott to shut up and watch the movie even as he squeezes himself onto the sofa beside him. Vision will drift in and seat himself on the floor in front of her, quietly asking questions and making comments that bring a smile to her face. Tony will ruffle her hair and steal the popcorn before sprawling out on the floor, only to be dragged onto the loveseat by Bucky and Steve while his place is taken by Bruce and all of the popcorn is eaten by Jim. Thor will sit beside him and Carol will take the sofa, and the two will watch with avid interest, the only ones really focusing on the movie.

The 'official' movie nights are only on Fridays and aren't supposed to go after one, but they always run late and have never just been on Friday.

The tower is full of sleepless superheroes, but its nights are also full of love, and for that, it's worth it.

* * *

 **O. obie**

No one, not even Steve or Bucky, mentions the framed picture Tony has on his desk of Obadiah Stane.

It's an old picture—Stane is still bald, but his beard is dark instead of grey, and he's got what looks like a green hat with felt elf ears glued on sitting askew on his head. He's looking down at an adorably tiny and chubby Tony with fond eyes, while Tony, who sits on his knee, has his eyes fixed on the toy train in his grubby hands.

Steve knows some of the story from what Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts told him—Stane was the one who got Tony captured by the Ten Rings and tried to kill him when Tony wouldn't make any more weapons for Stark Industries—but the rest he knows from Tony. Tony rarely talks about Stane, but when he does, it's never about the Stane who manipulated him for years and nearly took his life; it's about _Obie_ , the man who kept Howard from hitting eight-year-old Tony at the Christmas gala by laughing uproariously at all the damage he'd caused. Obie, the man who helped keep Tony moving after he lost his parents, after he lost Jarvis, before he had Rhodey and Pepper and the team. Even after everything that Stane did, everything that Stane _was_ , Tony still keeps that picture tucked away safely in his lab, untouched, pure.

Bucky's always had a hard time hearing Tony talk about "Obie"; he's never had any reason to pity or empathize with the monsters of HYDRA who destroyed him. Watching Tony still care about the man who almost killed him is painful for Bucky to witness. It's hard for Steve, too, but it doesn't make him angry like Bucky—instead, it leaves a painful ache in his chest every time his Tony smiles at the man's memory.

* * *

 **P. pseudo-science**

Tony hates Reed Richards.

Well, none of the Avengers really like Richards very much, per se, but Tony dislikes him the most. He is, in Tony's words, "a less pretty me without the suit, the genius, or the superhero", and silly as the description is, most of the team can't help but agree—he's clearly not as good a scientist, judging by how many problems he causes with his 'experiments', his wife Sue is way out of his league, and while Tony works to fix his mistakes when he fucks up like his identity depends on it, Richards could be described as "somewhat apologetic" when his errors cause mayhem.

And that's fine. No one has to like everybody. It's just a little inconvenient when the two antagonize each other every time the Fantastic Four works with the Avengers.

It's even more inconvenient when it results in the accidental escape of several large angry kittens into the state of Alabama, and even more so when Richards blames Tony for the incident, resulting in a very small, very short-lived war between the two superhero teams.

But it's fine. It's not like Steve or Bucky are mad. Richards insulted their sweetheart, after all. And if Natasha bans all three of them from movie nights for a week and Sharon makes them clean out the spoiled milk in Clint's refrigerator, well, it was worth it.

Besides, that obnoxious younger Storm insulted Thor's dress. Of course they had to retaliate.

* * *

 **Q. quirks**

Sharon spends her free time indulging in sci-fi and fantasy media, and is always annoyed when someone suggests she choose between Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings. Once every few months, she can be heard either complaining to someone about Firefly's cancellation or gushing about the latest TV show she's been watching.

Vision enjoys growing things, but he has a special fondness for cacti, particularly a minuscule flowering one he named "Henry". His collection is mostly restrained to an otherwise unused upper floor, but sometimes he brings Henry down to breakfast and proudly shows off how much Henry has grown.

Rhodey has a bad habit of stealing other people's leftovers from the fridge, a weakness he finds himself constantly embarrassed over. To make up for this, he tries to learn cooking from Bucky and Sam, but is surprisingly a worse cook than Tony, which many on the team weren't originally aware was actually possible.

Steve can't whistle and seems incapable of doing so no matter which team member attempts to show him how. Still, he "whistles" anyway, and his strange, wheezy lip-fumbles as he tidies the tower are enough to make anyone snicker.

Natasha is an incredible knitter and has made everyone in the tower at least one sweater, scarf, pair of gloves, or hat, but she always uses the ugliest, most brightly-colored yarn. The team has a secret pact to wear her warm, cozy gifts as a team so that no one has to brave wearing neon orange and khaki hats alone.

Clint's absolute favorite holiday is Halloween, and celebrates every October by dressing up every day of the month in a different costume. He keeps trying to convince the rest of the team to dress up as the Justice League, and he insists upon being Wonder Woman so he can tote around his homemade Lasso of Truth and pose with his bracelets and tiara.

Lovely though his voice may be, Tony has a tendency to sing and hum the most obnoxious, painfully catchy songs, including but not limited to the O'Reilly Auto Parts jingle, You Sexy Thing, Call Me Maybe, Jump, and the Nyan Cat song. His singing is often (unknowingly) accompanied by frustrated screaming.

Thor loves Pop-Tarts and considers them a Midgardian delicacy, but only likes the unfrosted kind. On more than one occasion, he's asked his fellow teammates to lick the frosting off so he doesn't have to eat it.

When she's bored, Wanda likes to create things with her powers, like fluttering red butterflies or coiling green snakes—anything that catches her fancy. She digs through encyclopedias and Google to find new things to create, and has an affinity for sea slugs.

Bucky loves having his hair styled, and has spent hours teaching himself intricate styles and techniques. He's an especially efficient braider and has become the designated hair stylist in the tower before special events, conferences, and galas.

Carol loves any and all kinds of sports, but is most fond of curling, especially its particular level of good sportsmanship. She once tried to take the whole team to a match but has since chosen to avoid doing so ever again after witnessing Steve and Bucky's particular cheering style.

Scott has a sizable stuffed animal collection, made up mainly of penguins he's collected over the years, receiving numerous from the rest of the team. His collection never grows too large, though—he takes often takes at least one with him for every mission and ends up leaving it with a random child to care for themselves.

Bruce listens to Sharon's rants with genuine interest, helps Vision tend to his garden, willingly eats Rhodey's cooking, is unaffected by Steve's whistling, actually thinks Natasha's knitted gifts are stylish and wearable, dresses up as The Flash with Clint, enjoys Tony's songs (no matter how irritating), admires Wanda's magical sea slug collection, watches hairstyling videos with Bucky, goes to curling matches with Carol, and always purchases a new penguin for Scott for his birthday.

He doesn't lick Thor's Pop-Tarts for him, but he does subtly keep him from smashing all the coffee mugs.

* * *

 **R. rubble**

It's not that Tony is ashamed of his relationship with his Brooklyn boys. He just didn't expect to have it publicized and displayed on national television _again_ after he pulls the two from the rubble of a building and Steve promptly shoves him against said rubble and proceeds to stick his tongue down Tony's throat while Bucky attempts to remove _all_ of his suit.

Tony loves them very much. Really, he does. And by love, he means he sees all their flaws and accepts them anyways, even when they land the Avengers on the cover of _every last goddamn tabloid for the next three fucking weeks_.

Loving his boys does not stop Tony, the entirety of SHIELD, or the rest of the team from being royally pissed with the two when the situation escalates to the point that the Avengers have to set up a press conference to address their members' love lives.

Steve and Bucky love Tony, too. Which is exactly why at the press conference, instead of answering any questions, Bucky declares "once it's legal we're getting married", and after Steve scoops a stunned Tony up and tosses him over his shoulder, the two jog out of the room.

Yes, Tony loves his boys. But loving them doesn't stop Tony from sticking Steve and Bucky on the couch for the next three nights.

As it happens, the only thing Steve and Bucky are sorry for is the fact that Tony doesn't have sex with them for a week after the (successful, in their opinion) press conference.

* * *

 **S.** **shower**

Steve and Bucky are out on a mission when they get the call about Tony.

It's supposed to be a three-month mission under deep cover with zero contact, just the two of them bringing back as much information on an unidentified base as they can. They're two weeks in, and Steve's only just established himself as a maintenance worker and Bucky as a security guard when Bucky's burner cell goes off.

All Natasha manages to get out is something about Tony being beaten to a pulp by Norman Osborn on live television before Steve's vision goes red and Bucky retracts into the Winter Soldier.

Bucky doesn't remember much after that—Steve tells him later that they're on probation for finishing up the mission in a matter of minutes instead of weeks by taking lives instead of prisoners and destroying everything instead of gathering information. What he does remember, at least vaguely, is stalking off the plane and shoving past several horrified doctors and nurses to get to Tony's bedside, and spending several hours locked behind mental walls, drowning in cold rage at the sight of his sweetheart lying on a goddamn hospital bed, silent and still, covered in bandages.

He can see his reflection in the window out of the corner of his eye—he knows it's him, somewhere, but the reality of his identity is hazy, a truth lost in the surreal haze of brutal fury that swallows him in waves. He's shaking, one hand in a death grip with Steve's; in the fragile control he has, he notices he's covered in blood.

It's been years since Bucky's snapped and lost himself, but the sight of his baby doll like this is nearly impossible to take, and when he feels a hand at his shoulder and grabs it, it takes all the self-control he has to let the woman go instead of snapping her wrist.

"He's stable, Sergeant Barnes," the doctor says, quiet and achingly soft, and somewhere, he recognizes her as familiar, a name he can't quite place. "He's going to be fine."

 _Stable. He's stable._ Bucky nearly collapses at the relief that floods over him, just enough for him to reassert control over his mind and calm his shaking hands.

He looks at Steve, whose gaze is fixed on Tony, face raw with emotion, caught in rage and anguish and terror, and repeats Dr. Cho's words until Steve hears them and turns to him with bright, watery eyes.

"He's stable," Bucky whispers, rough and pleading, taking Steve's other hand, and Steve lets his head fall forward, pressing his brow to Bucky's with a trembling exhale, interlocking their fingers.

They stay like this for hours.

* * *

Rhodey arrives six hours later at four in the morning, barreling into the room still in his military uniform and with a terrifying fire in his eyes that immediately dissipates when he sees Tony. "How is he?" he murmurs, crossing the room to Tony's side.

"He got off lucky. Broke two of his ribs and left arm, along with a few nasty cuts and a fracture in his leg, no major head injuries," Bruce tells him. There's a greenish tinge to his skin and dark bags under his eyes, but he still manages a calm smile. "Nothing vital, but it's gonna take some time to heal. He's lucky we still have a copy of EXTREMIS, or it would take a lot longer."

"He won't be happy when he finds out," Pepper murmurs, stroking Tony's hair back from his forehead. She looks exhausted to say the least, white blouse ruffled and hair sticking out at messy angles, but she pays her appearance no mind, eyes fixed on Tony. Bucky's fingers itch to reach out and replace hers, but he's still on edge from last night; he settles for tightening his grip on Steve's hand.

"Well, he'll just have to fucking deal with it," Clint says, stiff and harsh. He sounds stuffy, like he's caught a cold, and a glance at him tells Bucky that the archer hasn't gotten much sleep. He thinks about how much Tony would tease Clint for how red his eyes are, and something in Bucky softens.

"He's full of drugs right now, so it won't hurt too badly when he wakes up," Sam says. "In the meantime—"

"We are _not_ —" Bucky starts, lip curling in snarl, and Sharon cuts him off.

"Hate to break it to you, but I don't think Tony would be too pleased to see either of you." Sharon sighs when the two whip their heads to glare at her. "When was the last time either of you looked in a mirror? You look like you walked out of a goddamn horror movie."

"You smell like you walked out of one, too," Scott grumbles under his breath. "Probably knock him right back out."

There's a snort and a mumble, and then—Bucky's heart nearly stops, because Tony's _awake, he's alive he's okay holyfuckthankgod_. Steve and Bucky nearly trip over themselves rushing to his side, and Tony blinks up at them, eyes bleary. "Wuzzhaa?"

"Hi, sweetheart." Bucky tries to keep his voice from trembling and fails; Tony's brow furrows, eyes coming into focus as Steve runs his own shaking fingers over Tony's. Rhodey nudges past them and holds a straw to Tony's mouth, and Tony drinks greedily, eyes fluttering briefly in relief.

"Look who's finally up," Clint says, voice rough, and Tony's eyes fix on him. "Took you long enough."

"Please." It comes out dry and hoarse, a little slurred, but it's _Tony_ , and Bucky's heart nearly breaks from how good it is to hear him. "Know you missed me. How—" Tony coughs, wheezing, and Rhodey lifts the straw back to his mouth.

"A day or so. Didn't you promise me you wouldn't get yourself killed while I was gone?"

"'M only mostly dead," Tony mumbles. He frowns, wincing slightly, staring up at Steve. His gaze flicks to Bucky. "… S'that _blood_?"

For the first time, Bucky looks— _really_ looks—at Steve, and realizes with a horrified jolt that the flaky brown stuff Steve is covered in is dried blood. He leans over to sniff Steve and recoils almost immediately, retching slightly; from the revolted look on Steve's face, he's no better.

 _Shit_ , Bucky thinks, glancing at Steve, who sends him an equally nervous look. Bucky remembers the last time they came home from a mission and slipped into bed with a sleeping Tony without cleaning up first.

 _Fuck_.

Tony's expression is darkening by the second, and Steve opens and closes his mouth, shooting panicked glances at Bucky, who swallows hard against the lump in his throat.

It's at that moment that Dr. Cho strides into the room with a team of doctors behind her, ushering the Avengers out of the room with a calm, practiced ease. Bucky can feel Tony's narrowed eyes burning a hole through him and quickens his pace out the door, suddenly very glad to be out of the room.

"At least it's not our blood, right?" Steve mumbles to Bucky.

"But … he doesn't know that," Bucky hisses back, and the two stare at each other, their worry over their fella suddenly overwhelmed by a very real fear of the retribution that awaits them.

In the end, nothing, including an hour spent scrubbing themselves in a shower, a soothing Natasha, nor even Thor's promises of royal protection, save them from the vicious berating and incessant fussing the two super-soldiers receive from their tiny bedridden boyfriend.

* * *

 **T. tulle**

Tony is beautiful in white.

Well, Tony's beautiful in all hues and shades, but Bucky likes him best in white. Specifically, Bucky likes him when he wears a pretty grey-blue dress with white tulle underskirts, legs spread and shaking as Bucky fucks him with a thin purple vibrator.

"James," Tony pleads, voice high and breathy, and Bucky smirks down at him, angling the vibrator inside him so it drags relentlessly against his prostate before leaving it pressed there. Tony arches into the touch with a cry, burying his face in his arm in a weak attempt at muffling himself. There's a myriad of toys strewn around them, and the two plan to use every one of them before the night is over.

"What a doll," Bucky drawls, sliding his hands up his thighs, and Tony presses his face into his arm harder, trying in vain to stifle his noises as Bucky pumps his cock in firm, perfect strokes. "Lemme hear you, baby. I wanna hear you call my name."

He releases his cock and reaches around, grabbing an egg vibrator and holds it up to Tony, raising an eyebrow in a silent question; Tony whines, needy and desperate, and nods his head, still hiding his face in his arm. Bucky clucks his tongue, running the egg vibrator feather-light along his cock, and Tony pushes into the touch, lip trembling as he presses it to his perineum hard.

"Come on, gorgeous," Bucky murmurs, tightening his grip on the vibrator still inside Tony, keeping it angled against his prostate. "Sing for me, котенок."

He turns the egg vibrator on and watches as Tony's head flies back, scream erupting from his throat, and holds them there as they pulsate, letting Tony writhe as his scream turns frantic.

* * *

 **U. underwear**

Bucky's been in the tower for all of three months when a harried and fully naked Bruce rushes past him and an excited Tony runs smack into his chest, brandishing a black ball of cloth and babbling something about "durable, high elasticity pants".

Bucky blinks, frowning; without thinking, he reaches out and places a hand on Tony's shoulder to still him. "Slow down for a second. What's the issue?"

"The _shorts_. They're made from several layers of ultra-resilient fabric with high elasticity, and after I run some tests and alter the friction coefficient, they're going to revolutionize Brucie-pie's existence," Tony rambles, clearly impatient. He's squirming, trying to push past Bucky, eyes fixed on Bruce, who's currently trying to ride the elevator up to his lab. "FRIDAY, keep him there until I catch him, don't let him hide in his lab!"

"Yes, Boss," FRIDAY demurs. "Would you like me to use the lasers?"

"Not yet, and don't you sass me, young lady," Tony snaps. He almost manages to pull out of Bucky's hold before Bucky tightens his grip.

"Yeah, no, hold on a second," Bucky says firmly. There are dark shadows under Tony's eyes, his skin is abnormally pale, and his hands are shaking. "When was the last time you went to bed?"

"What?" Tony blinks before he narrows his eyes. "Around three," he says carefully, and Bucky raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Tony—"

With a deft, almost practiced hand, he removes himself from Bucky's grip and scurries away, likely to chase after Bruce. Bucky curses under his breath and hurries after him, just stopping short when Tony drags Bruce into the elevator and shuts it in Bucky's face.

Bucky half-laughs, half-snarls under his breath. "Oh, it's gonna be like that, is it?"

Tony may be good at running and hiding, but Bucky likes a challenge, and Tony's not getting away without some food and some sleep. Not if Bucky has any say in the matter.

* * *

 **V. valencia**

It's been a little over two days since Tony's last called his Brooklyn boys to inform them his trip has been extended from three days to two weeks.

He's on a business trip with Pepper in Valencia, discussing architectural plans with numerous small businesses to build a new cultural center in Spain. It's not the first time he's done something like this—he's contracted local businesses to do similar projects in Indonesia, Mali, Brazil, South Africa, and Haiti, among many—but this is the first time it's taken quite so long.

It's awful.

Steve and Bucky can't help but miss their Tony; the bed's emptier, the days are quieter, and neither super-soldier had realized just how much comfort they got just from Tony's mere presence, let alone his touches. During their last video chat, his eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders were tense, and they couldn't even take him to bed and fall asleep watching the tension melt from his frame. It's harder to sleep and relax without him there, and they keep forgetting that he's not available for backup on missions. Worse still, they may not even get a chance to see him again until the trip is over—Tony and Pepper are so busy, they barely get more than a few hours to sleep every day. The body pillow they're using as a weak replacement in bed pales in comparison to Tony's embraces, and it doesn't tremble or beg or try to stand on shaky legs after sex and collapse with a squeak.

Speaking of the body pillow, it's been about three hours and it's Bucky's turn to mope around the house with it, but Steve hasn't come back up from the gym, so Bucky tosses on a pair of sweats and heads down to reclaim it.

He finds Steve there whaling away on one of the reinforced punching bags and hangs back for a moment, enjoying the view. The pillow is on a bench beside him, tucked up neatly beside a half-open duffle bag.

"Was hoping you'd come an' join me," Steve pants, casting a glance over his shoulder, and Bucky smiles, making his way over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Kinda lonely down here."

"What a line," Bucky quips, letting Steve wrap his arms around his waist. "At least you have the body pillow. It's my turn with it, y'know."

Steve raises an eyebrow, a crooked smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? Why don't you come and take it from me?"

Bucky laughs low in his throat. "Oh, Stevie. All these years, and you still haven't learnt to pick your battles wisely."

"Oh, I dunno, Buck." Steve grins, pulling himself into a protective stance in front of the bench. "I'm not sure you can beat me."

Bucky's eyes flash with a danger that sends a thrill through Steve's groin, and then he's whipping a leg forward that Steve barely manages to dodge, fighting with a harsh, unforgiving style that's difficult for Steve to maintain his usual catlike grace against. Bucky backs him into the ring, and then Steve, with a gleeful grin, knocks him back on the ropes, moving to the offensive.

He's not sure how long they spar for when Bucky finally gets a leg up and knocks Steve off his feet, pinning him down. "Still think you can beat me?" Bucky pants.

Steve drags him down into a kiss, hot and messy and demanding, and flips them over with the distraction, seating himself firmly on Bucky's chest. "Yeah, I do," he teases.

Bucky shifts, struggling, then stills, eyes burning. "You're not wearin' any briefs, are you?" Bucky breathes, and Steve smirks, pressing his hips forward.

"Seems like you're enjoyin' it."

Steve's grey sweats are taut over his erection, and Bucky breathes hot air over the length of it, grinning as Steve's breath catches in his throat. "Admit it, Stevie. You get off on pinnin' people down."

"Maybe," Steve allows, "or maybe I'd get off on sticking my dick down your throat and watching you choke on it."

Bucky's eyes narrow. "Do it, then," he says, low and taunting, and Steve's eyes darken; he rolls his hips forward, and Bucky's eyes flutter as Steve's half-hard cock twitches hot and heavy against his mouth.

"If you want it so bad, why don't you take it?" Steve challenges, slowly tugging his sweats down, letting his cock slip out and bob against Bucky's mouth; Bucky's eyes cross as he looks at it, then up at Steve. His tongue darts out, and he drags it slow and hot against the underside, tracing the vein beneath the head before sucking the tip into his mouth with a vibrating hum.

Steve's eyes roll back, and he lets his head fall back, moaning, rocking into Bucky's mouth. They stay like that for a few more minutes until Bucky glances up at Steve and smirks. In a flash, Steve's on his back and Bucky's sweats are yanked down, grinding his ass back against Steve's face.

"Come on, Stevie," Bucky taunts, smirking as Steve's mouth waters at the sight of his hole. He licks his hand and wraps a hand around Steve's cock, jerking slowly. "Don't make me do all the work here."

"Please," Steve breathes, tugging Bucky back slightly and running the flat of his tongue over the pucker. "Like you don't love takin' me an' Tony apart all by yourself." He plunges his tongue in.

"That's right, punk," Bucky groans, grinding his hips down against Steve's mouth, and Steve gives a throaty moan, working two hungry fingers into his ass alongside his tongue. " _Earn it_."

Steve grunts, hips thrusting up and stuttering as Bucky jerks him off the way he likes it, just tight enough, slick and hot, rolling his thumb over the head repeatedly. "Fuck—Bucky—"

"Come on, Stevie," Bucky purrs, pressing his thumb to the spot under the head, and Steve arches up with a strangled cry, spilling into Bucky's waiting hand. He collapses back with a gasp, and grins up at Bucky, who's looking back at him with a broad smile. He drags Bucky's hips back and spreads him wider, thrusting his tongue in deep as he can go, and Bucky moans, head falling back as Steve wraps a hand around his cock and jerks him off until he comes with a hard keen.

"You're such a jerk," Steve says as he sits up, Bucky sliding smoothly down into his lap, and he wraps his arms around him.

"You know you love me," Bucky murmurs.

"I'm gonna fuck the sass out of you."

"That better be a promise, punk."

The moment is interrupted when the door slams open, and one very enthusiastic Carol appears dragging a grinning Thor behind her, floating with giddiness.

"My shield brethren!" Thor booms, and the two super-soldiers jump, Bucky cursing under his breath. "I have come to assist the Captain Carol with her training!"

"Holy—damn it, Thor!" Bucky snaps as he yanks his sweats up, Steve hurriedly wiping his hand on his gym towel, face burning.

"You have no idea—it's so fucking hard to find a sparring partner when—" Carol babbles; she's smoking slightly, eyes glowing. "Thank you so much, Thor, really—"

Admittedly, the mood is ruined for the rest of the day, but after they lock themselves in their room and Steve makes good on his promise, they find themselves in higher spirits than they've been in since Tony left. (For another few hours, at least.)

* * *

 **W. winter**

While there's little she can do about it, Sharon can guess when he's about to switch from Bucky to Winter with uncanny accuracy.

Sam notices when they cook together, mostly because Winter, unlike Bucky, is a terrible cook and only knows how to make компот.

Rhodey still hasn't fully picked up on the shifts, but when someone else notices, he nudges back the rest of the team with a quiet efficiency.

Natasha notices the shifts right as they happen, and distracts Winter immediately with a murmured "зайка" and a hand on his shoulder.

He mostly notices when all his shots are taken by someone else without so much as a word, but Clint is also aware every time Winter crawls up into the vents and hides there, nesting.

Tony notices it when he starts following him around and cosseting him in silence, because as much as Bucky fusses and nags, Winter is far, far worse.

Steve notices because Winter treats him as a backup handler, second to Bucky, and it aches, but there's nothing he can do, so he makes sure he's always gentle with Winter.

Winter sees the Hulk as a kindred spirit and an informal ally, and so in the heat of battle, Bruce knows it's Winter because it's clear he's struck up a strange, protective friendship with the Big Guy.

Wanda can feel the tense shift in his mind like a switch and sends a vague pulse of calm and safety to him, enough to remind Winter he is among allies.

Thor and Scott have no idea and can't tell the difference, and so treat him no differently, a fact both Bucky and Winter are secretly grateful for.

Carol can't tell, either, but she does enjoy watching all the movies she loves and the rest of the team hates, and so convinces Winter to watch them with her because he doesn't complain about how cheesy or silly they are like everyone else does.

* * *

 **X. xxx**

It's no secret that Steve and Bucky don't exactly enjoy Tony's nasty habit of throwing himself into his work and disregarding any and all elements of self-care, including but not limited to eating food, drinking water, and resting. Countless times, the rest of the team will slip out of the tower while Steve demands that Tony "take a goddamn break" and Tony inevitably refuses.

Before, the fights were limited to shouting matches, often comprised of either Bucky or Steve lecturing Tony on "eating regular meals" and "sleeping in an actual bed". Nowadays, the confrontations occur more often, but with less yelling and more … well. Screaming. Of a sort.

If you ask Steve or Bucky, it's a method of punishment every time Tony neglects his health that also happens to test their super-soldier stamina. If you ask Tony, it's just an excuse to torment him for spending his time doing useful things like keeping the team alive instead of doing silly things like eating and sleeping.

They've been taking him apart for _hours_.

"Please, please," Tony pleads, writhing and panting as Steve and Bucky each work two fingers into him, shuddering as Bucky scissors his fingers; he's covered in their slowly-cooling come, painfully hard and seconds from coming himself.

Steve catches Bucky's eye, and the two share a wicked grin. "Please what, sweetheart?" Steve asks, and Tony gasps as Bucky wraps his metal hand around his cock, stroking with expert flicks of his wrist. "Tell me, Tony."

Tony's head flings back, mouth working, clearly too overwhelmed to even make a sound, and Bucky nips lightly at his shoulder, clucking his tongue and tightening his hand to keep Tony from coming. "C'mon, baby doll, you gotta tell us."

Steve hooks his fingers to rub them against Tony's prostate, and Tony's voice breaks back into sound; he lets out a breathy sob, toes curling and his back arching hard. "I—I n-need—"

"Say it," Bucky growls, mouthing his way up Tony's neck.

"Y-your c-cock." Tony tries to grind back on their fingers, desperate, but Steve won't let him, keeping his other hand tight on Tony's hip and forcing him to remain still where he straddles their laps. "Nnnghhh— _please!"_

"Not this time. You didn't earn it, sweetheart," Steve murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Tony's trembling lips, achingly gentle in comparison to his firm grip on Tony's hip, forcing Tony to take the slow, agonizing thrust of their fingers. "You're going to come right here, and you're going to do it _now."_

He twists his hand, spreading his fingers wide to match Bucky's, and Tony cries out, thrashing uselessly in their grip.

"Gaahh—hhhaaahhh!" Tony's come splashes on Steve's groin, and the two super-soldiers groan at the sight. Bucky leans forward to suck a hickey into Tony's neck, and Steve murmurs, soft and sweet and sadistic as he angles his fingers to dig against Tony's sweet spot. Bucky purrs as Tony makes an inarticulate noise that sounds like a cross between a plea and a scream, high and desperate, one hand clawing at Steve's back, the other grasping futilely at Bucky's chest as they milk his orgasm from him in eddying waves.

When Steve and Bucky are finally finished with him, Tony's little more than a quivering mess, twitching weakly in their arms as they lay him back on their bed, wiping him clean with a cool washcloth.

"Good, baby doll?" Bucky runs the cloth over Tony's brow, and Tony makes a strange gurgling sound as Bucky kisses his forehead, nuzzling up into the kiss. "You do look pretty satisfied."

"Dunno, Buck," Steve murmurs, chuckling as Tony grumbles. "I think we broke him."

"M'not broken," Tony protests grumpily, "and you both suck at punishment. I'm not sorry, by the way."

Well … Tony's not sorry for staying up for twenty-six hours and running on coffee and stale Cheez-Its. He _is_ sorry that the most he got tonight were fingers. He wanted— _still_ wants, actually—to feel at least one of his boys inside him, hot and twitching, leave him full and sated and …

"Stop distracting me," Tony whines, pushing at Bucky's face as he brushes his lips against Tony's brow, stroking his hair soothingly. "M' trying to _complain_ here."

"You mean pout," Steve says, eyes twinkling when Tony glowers at him. "Well, you _are_."

"Sorry, котенок." Bucky sidles up beside Tony, tucking him close to his space-heater body. "Get some rest, dollface."

"M'fine." Tony bats vaguely at Steve's chest, lip jutting out in a pout when Steve catches his hand and kisses his palm, eyes drooping. "Jus' … give'm."

He doesn't remember much after that, but when he dreams, it's of bodies like space heaters, warm and enveloping, and smiles so sugar-sweet they make his heart ache.

He also dreams of food, mostly pizza bagels and hot pockets, but that's a different matter altogether.

* * *

 **Y. yawn**

Tony yawns like a kitten. Steve and Bucky think it's adorable. Tony denies he does it and pouts for a full fifteen minutes every time either super-soldier even mentions his yawns.

(They don't tell him how cute it is when he whimpers and clutches at them every time one of them tries to leave the bed, because then he'd never go to sleep. That's their little secret.)

* * *

 **Z. zero**

Bucky realized he was in love with Tony when he found the genius asleep in his lab, mumbling about sandwiches.

Steve realized he was in love with Tony during a mission and Tony made a horrible pun on the comms.

The two have loved each other for as long as they can remember, but Tony—Tony is everything they never knew they wanted, a perfectly imperfect man. It's astonishing, looking back, that there had ever been a time where they weren't in love with Tony. With this in mind, they made a pact: as long as they had a chance, as long as Tony was willing, they'd never stop fighting to have him. Whatever it took.

Tony realized he was in love with Steve when Steve accidentally broke a clipboard, and when he made a bad joke, Steve smiled at him like he'd hung the moon.

He realized he was in love with Bucky when the super-soldier came trudging into his lab with a large spoon jammed in his broken arm and a humiliated look on his face.

He's always known he falls in love too easily, but for him, that was a new low, and so he resolved to fight his feelings and never let the two super-soldiers know the truth. They deserved more than he could ever offer, so they weren't going to find out, even if he had to lie for the rest of his life. Whatever it took.

The rest of the team found this both painful and amusing. Technically, it's not their business what any of the three does in their love lives, but that didn't stop them from casually dropping hints, having "talks" with Steve, and slipping Bucky pamphlets filled with date ideas.

It still took them three years to finally get together.

No one on the team ever lets them live that down.

* * *

 **this is really smutty pls don't tattle on me**

 **also please comment i mean i wrote over 16000 words and spent a lot of hours on this come on**


End file.
